Everyday Peril
by Alias424
Summary: Sequel to Shattered Paradise. Even a normal life has its dangers...
1. One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Everyday Peril

Chapter 1: One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest  
  
  
"…Yes… I know… Love you, too… Bye."  
  
Sydney Vaughn sighed as she hung up the phone, resisting the urge to slam it back against the receiver. Instead, she rested her head against the wall and took a deep breath: in and out, count to ten. She didn't know what her problem was. She had been a spy, tortured and tested in every way imaginable; she now spent her days teaching, sometimes as many as thirty students at a time under her direction. But she wasn't at the school today. She was home, where the heart is, or at least that's what they said. Maybe her heart was there, but it felt as if someone had ripped it out, shredding it, and flinging it against the wall. She had been a kick-ass super spy and she couldn't handle a day at home? Impossible…  
  
But it seemed to be the truth. Maybe it was lack of sleep, she thought, as she turned on the CD player, not knowing or caring what CD was inside, and flopping down on the couch. She could always attribute it to tiredness. She had been awake since almost 5:30 yesterday morning. And it was now… 2:23 in the afternoon.  
  
Yes, time was flying. 2:23. Soon it would be 2:24, then 2:25, and before she knew it, Michael would be home. She had just gotten off the phone with him, and he had promised to try to come home early. Sydney had tried to sound energetic and happy, but he knew her better than that, probably better, even, than herself. He saw right through her deception. Despite her assurances that she could handle this for five more days, no problem, he told her that he would leave the office as soon as he possibly could, and the second he came through the door, she was going straight to bed.  
  
Sydney couldn't wait. She let the music quietly wash over her, calming her with its eerie harmonies and sad lyrics. Four-year-old Hailey had woken up just after 10:30 last night, right as Sydney and Michael had been heading off to bed. Sydney heard the little girl's tears first, and, thinking that she had had a nightmare, was at the her side almost before Michael realized what was going on. He appeared in the doorway just in time to see Hailey's dinner resurface, all over Sydney's clothes.  
  
Sydney had gathered the her daughter into her arms and plunked her down in the tub, whispering soft reassurances in her ear as she left Michael to clean what little vomit had not found its way onto her shirt. Hailey had thrown up twice more before her bath was even over. The first time, Sydney had been able to help her to the toilet in time, but the second, she had just left the room to change her shirt and discuss with Michael who would take the next day off from work, and needless to say, the bathtub had to be cleaned out, and Hailey given another bath.  
  
"I'll take care of it, Syd," Michael had said as they both peered in at the mess.  
  
"No, I've got it," she had answered, foolishly, she now realized. "You have to get up for work tomorrow."  
  
Michael had nodded, wrapping an arm around her and planting a kiss on her forehead. "You sure?"  
  
"Uh huh," Sydney responded with Hailey already in her arms, soaking her clean shirt. "Come on, angel," she whispered to the little girl, carrying her out of the room. "Goodnight, Mike."  
  
"Night," he called after her.  
  
Sydney brought her daughter to the other bathroom, cleaning her quickly this time, before she could dirty herself or the water again. She had her dried, dressed, and tucked into bed within fifteen minutes, and decided she should clean out the other tub.  
  
A quick glance in the bathtub, however, revealed that it had already been cleaned, and Sydney went to thank her husband on her way back to Hailey's room, but Michael was already sprawled out on the bed in his boxers, fast asleep.  
  
"Mommy, my tummy feels yucky," Hailey whimpered when Sydney returned to her room.  
  
"I know, sweetie," Sydney answered. She thought for a moment and glanced down at her daughter. "You know what? Why don't we take some books and go sit in the bathroom for a little while."  
  
They had sat on the bathroom floor for hours, reading book after book: The Cat in the Hat, Are You My Mother?, Stone Soup, Mother Goose, The Ugly Duckling….It wasn't until nearly four o'clock in the morning when Hailey's stomach settled enough to allow her to sleep, right in the middle of Go, Dog, Go!. By that time, Sydney was exhausted beyond sleep, and lay with her eyes open and her daughter in her arms, listening as Michael got ready for work, and smiling weakly when he came to check on her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.  
  
  
Hailey had finally calmed down and seemed to be feeling better, albeit very grumpy from lack of sleep. It looked like now Sydney was finally going to get some rest, maybe a little nap. Even fifteen minutes would be heaven. She sat up and strained to hear any sounds from the other room. All was quiet, except for the noise from the movie she had popped into the VCR a little while ago, and the soft strains of the music she had just turned on, barely loud enough to be heard.  
  
Sydney lay back and snuggled into the comfortable couch, closing her eyes. The prince and the princess had just begun their famous duet: "I know you. I've walked with you once upon a…"  
  
"Mommy!" The high-pitched little voice pierced her eardrums, but Sydney gathered her wits and calmly walked towards the family room. She was met halfway by Hailey and William, the older sister holding her 18-month-old brother firmly by the arm.  
  
"Hailey!" Sydney exclaimed, managing to keep her voice cheerful for the children and kneeling down to be at their eyelevel. "What's the matter?"  
  
"He was _staring _at me!" Hailey whined, tugging her brother's arm. "I was trying to watch the movie and I couldn't because he was staring at me!"  
  
Sydney picked up her little boy, his dark, serious eyes gazing into her own. Although she knew that he could talk, Sydney rarely heard her son's little voice. He was an almost eerily quiet and good-natured child, whose deep eyes spoke volumes, as if to make up for his lack of spoken words.  
  
"Just like that, see!" Hailey cried, raising her arms in exasperation. Although usually as good-natured as her brother, Hailey was a talkative little girl, who neither understood nor appreciated her brother's constant gaze.  
  
Sydney turned from her daughter to her son, William's gaze seeming to change to one of irritation and tired disbelief, as if to ask, what's with her?  
  
"I know," Sydney murmured, ruffling his sandy hair. "Hailey, why don't you go in the other room and finish watching your…" But when Sydney turned her head, Hailey was already gone. "Come on, buddy," she sighed, kissing William on the cheek. Well, if she had to take one of her children into the other room with her, William would be the one to take. Quiet and charming, a miniature of Michael right down to the tiny cleft in his chin, but with her deep brown eyes, he was a little angel, happy to sit wherever his mother or father placed him and amuse himself for hours.  
  
They certainly had made perfect children, Sydney mused as she placed William on the floor beside a half-built tower of blocks. Just as everyone had said they would. She loved them to pieces and would do anything for them, but sometimes she just needed a break. Yesterday, they had seemed like such little angels, and she knew they still were, but after being up for almost 36 straight hours and cleaning up vomit for a good part of the night….  
  
She lay back down on the couch and put an arm over her eyes. She could feel the familiar pounding beginning again, as it had so many times before. _Please, please, please. Not a sick four-year-old and a headache. Please…_  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
Sydney's eyes snapped open and she jumped up, shaken from her peace, the little girl's shriek carrying over her calming, quiet music, increasing the pounding in her head. Maybe if she waited, Hailey would come to her again. Maybe the little girl would forget what she wanted. Maybe she wouldn't have to get up…  
  
"He keeps getting in the way!"  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
Sydney turned to the floor where she had left William, but he was still there, calmly stacking blocks, unshaken by his sister's shouts. She and Michael had often been worried about their little one's lack of speech and concern for the world around him, but the doctor had assured them that he was just fine, and told them to be thankful that they had at least one quiet little boy.  
  
William looked up from his tower long enough to meet his mother's gaze, but his eyes told her that he had just gotten away from his overly tired and crabby sister, and Sydney was on her own.  
  
"In a second, sweetie." Advil first. Or better yet, her medication. Screw over the counter painkillers. Her prescription pills would knock out the pain before it got any worse, before it took over her whole body, overwhelming her in a worse way than her kids were that day.  
  
"No, _now_!" Hailey drew out the last word, whining to perfection. The flu and less than fours hours of sleep transforming Sydney's sweet little angel into a cranky little girl. "I'm missing the movie!"  
  
Sydney walked into the family room just in time to hear Maleficent cackle evilly, right before she unveiled the Sleeping Beauty. But she couldn't see the villain. Jonathan had pressed himself to the screen, nose to nose with the evil witch.  
  
"Let's go, sir," Sydney said, picking up the little boy. "Your sister's trying to watch…"  
  
"No, no, no, no, no!" Jonathan shrieked, kicking and fighting to break free of his mother's grasp.  
  
Sydney stood still, knowing that his tantrum would run its course in a few moments. Little Jonny could be a real handful.  
  
"Mommy! I can't see!" Hailey called over her brother's yells.  
  
Sydney quickly stepped to the side, allowing her daughter to clearly view the TV, and grateful that she quieted as soon as she could see. Noticing that his mother was no longer paying attention to him, Jonny quieted. "No?" he tried one last time, his dark eyes questioning.  
  
"Come on," Sydney sighed, carrying him from the room. When she walked into the other room, she found William standing in the middle of it, having abandoned his blocks when he discovered himself alone.  
  
Sydney placed Jonny down next to his brother, his little double. Their eyes, their little faces, their sweet dimples, everything exactly the same. The younger of the two by only a few minutes, and by far the shyest of her three children, William immediately took his brother's hand, seeming to relax and become more comfortable now that he was back with his twin.  
  
"Mommy, please come back to me."  
  
This time, the words weren't whined or shrieked, but merely spoken. Her little girl had returned through the tired, cranky little monster that seemed to have replaced her that day. As impossible as it seemed, something had happened in the thirty seconds since she had left her daughter's side.  
  
Sydney left the two boys in the living room, hands still clasped, picture perfect, if only there were film in the camera, or she knew where the camera was.  
  
"What's the matter, sweetie?" She asked when she reached her daughter's side, pressing her lips to Hailey's forehead. "You feel warm again. I'll get you some medicine."  
  
"The purple kind?" Hailey asked, eyes growing wide.  
  
"Yep," Sydney nodded, knowing what would come next. They had been over this at least three times since last night.  
  
Hailey screwed up her face and stuck out her tongue. "The purple kind tastes yucky."  
  
"I know. But it makes you feel better, angel. I'll be right back, okay?" At least her daughter was now old enough not to spit the medicine back out at her. Although even if she did, Sydney didn't think it would be half that bad. Purple was a nice color; the liquid was grape-flavored, after all, and somewhat sweet smelling. She had had worse crap all over her, some of it within the last twenty-four hours.  
  
Hailey nodded, pouting and turning her eyes back to the television. Sydney went in the other room and retrieved the Children's Tylenol and a glass of water.  
  
"My tummy feels icky again," Hailey informed her solemnly, as Sydney walked back into the family room.  
  
"I'll get you a bowl to use in case you feel sick," Sydney responded. "Here, Hailey, take this first." She put the spoon up to her daughter's mouth. Hailey turned away from the movie and eyed it warily. "I have water right here," Sydney assured her, motioning to the glass she held in the other hand. Hailey hastily swallowed the medicine and gulped down the water afterwards, almost drowning herself in the attempt to get both down as quickly as possible. "Good job," Sydney praised her messy but mostly successful effort, and brushed back her daughter's chestnut hair to kiss her temple. "I'll be right back with the…"  
  
Before she could finish her sentence, she heard crying from the other room. Thinking her boys had found some way to hurt themselves and imagining all the possible and even impossible ways they could have managed it, Sydney ran into the other room.  
  
Jonny, the more outgoing and stronger of the two, was in tears, shocking his mother and apparently his brother as well. The boys were in the middle of the room where she'd left them, hands still held tightly. William began to gently pat his brother's face with his free hand, which would have made a very sweet picture if Jonathan hadn't been crying.  
  
"Jonny, what's wrong?" Sydney asked, reaching down to scoop her son up.  
  
But before she had her arms around him, Jonny was sick. And not just on Sydney, because that would have been too easy to clean up, but all over the new living room carpet and of course, his brother as well. William didn't move, and Sydney had to physically remove his hand from Jonny's in order to pick the older twin up and soothe him.  
  
"My poor little baby," she cooed, rocking him gently. _I can handle this, I can handle this…_  
  
In seconds, William started to cry, probably, Sydney thought, because his brother's tears had yet to dry up. She gathered her other son into her arms, at the very moment that he became sick just as his brother had moments before. Whether from the flu, the unappealing sight and smell of vomit, or even just because he and Jonny always did everything together, Sydney didn't know.  
  
The reason didn't matter either, Sydney thought as she surveyed the room. The mess was still there, all over the room, the twins, and herself. Hailey chose that moment to peek her little head into the doorway, her bottom lip trembling as she tiptoed into the room.  
  
"Mommy, I missed. I'm sorry."  
  
And Sydney had to close her eyes for a moment, needing to take a deep breath, but not wanting to fill her nostrils with the scent of the room. Somehow, she managed to tell her daughter that it was okay, to pat her on the head, and to lead her and the twins to the bathroom and clean all of them up.  
  
  
Michael walked through the door at 7:29, just after Sydney had finally gotten the twins in bed. Hailey was in the living room, finishing up _The Sword in the Stone_, her fourth movie of the day. "I'm so sorry, Syd," he murmured, guilt and sorrow clearly evident in his eyes. "Something came up and I was only able to walk out the door…"  
  
"Don't," Sydney snapped, pulling away from him as he moved to kiss her. "Don't kiss me. And don't kiss the kids either."  
  
"Are they all…?" Michael began to ask, but was again interrupted.  
  
"On second thought," Sydney continued, subconsciously switching to French, as they usually did when they did not want the kids to hear them. Hailey knew a few words of the language, but her mother and father spoke too fast for her to understand any of it, and as they were both fluent speakers, this way was easier than spelling individual words out. "Don't touch the kids, don't go near them, don't even look at them."  
  
"Syd, it's only the flu. Kids get it all the time…" he replied in his native tongue, moving to caress her.  
  
"Dammit, I told you not to kiss me!" Her eyes flash angrily, frustration and exhaustion overtaking her. "I haven't gotten a chance to shower yet, and I'm probably crawling in germs!"  
  
"I wasn't…"  
  
"Hailey was sick all night, and then Jonny this afternoon, so of course William had to follow suit, and then Hailey again… And it was everywhere, Michael, and I've only just finished cleaning all of it and the kids up again. This damn flu is driving me insa..."  
  
"Sydney," Michael cut in, taking her face in his hands and switching back to English. "Honey, you're exhausted. Go to bed. I've got it from here, and I'll stay home with them tomorrow. I'll call Devlin right now."  
  
Sydney tore his hands away from her face. "I'm too… I can't… I'm going for a run," she stated, storming out of the room.  
  
"But Syd," Michael called after her, following her to their room, "it's going to… oww, dammit…" She had slammed the door in his face and he walked right into it. Giving up, Michael sighed and walked back into the kitchen, rubbing his stinging nose.  
  
Moments later, he heard the front door slam, and considered going out after her, but then decided that she'd figure it out soon enough and be back, probably angrier than ever, but he knew how to handle her.  
  
Sydney sat on the porch steps, lacing up her shoes. The sun had already started to set, and in her fury, she hadn't noticed that it was darker than normal outside. She finished tying her shoes and stood up, just as lightning lit up the sky and the rain began to pour down in sheets. "Shit!" she cried, as thunder crackled loudly, trying to split the sky open.  
  
For a moment, she considered running in the rain anyway, not really caring if she got hit by lightning or not, but then she heard a voice behind her, and that voice and the words that were spoken melted her, finally managing to shake her from the frustration of the day.  
  
"Mommy, what does "shit" mean?"


	2. A MidSpring Night's Dream

Everyday Peril

~~~

Thanks for the compliments anonymous and UConn Fan, and I'm glad you found Hailey amusing… Becky, you made my day with that (and the ones on SD-1). You're such a sweetie, and a hell of a writer. Everyone should go check out Dreamwriter 4 Life's stuff. She's much better than I am; I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

~~~

Chapter 2: A Mid-Spring Night's Dream

Little Hailey had crept onto the porch behind her, evidently tired of sitting on the couch and feeling much better. Her green eyes were innocent and questioning as she unwittingly said her first swear, completely trusting her mother to tell her this new and interesting word's meaning.

Sydney sat on top of the porch steps, out of the way of the rain. "That, darling," she began slowly, "is a very naughty word. Mommy shouldn't have said it, and you shouldn't either."

Hailey nodded solemnly, taking in this piece of information as if it were a grave secret was promising to keep for all eternity. "I'll _never_ say that bad word, Mommy," she whispered gravely, eyes wide.

Sydney laughed and pulled her daughter towards her, placing a kiss on the little girl's nose and causing her to giggle as well. She wished she had had a camera to record that solemn promise, knowing she would need it once Hailey hit her teen years. The little girl moved to climb into her lap, but Sydney pushed her gently away. "I'm all wet, angel."

"You'll get sick," Hailey stated, sitting down next to her mother, careful not to touch her so that she wouldn't get wet.

"And you don't want to get even more sick," Sydney replied. "You should be inside, little girl. Don't you want to get better?"

Hailey nodded. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"For what, baby?"

Her little girl often apologized for things before even telling her mother that she had done them. The sweet little apologies had preceded stories of how crayon drawings had ended up on the wall, a china vase had broken, and the twins had ended up looking like badly painted French whores covered in Sydney's new makeup. But this next confession surprised her.

"I'm sorry that I was sick. And that I got William and Jonny sick." The look on Hailey's face mirrored what her father's had been when he had walked in the door just minutes before.

"Oh, Hailey…" Sydney began, not really knowing what to say next. The child felt genuinely guilty for the events of the day, for something that she could not have had any control over. "You don't need to be sorry. It's not your fault. People get sick sometimes. It just happens."

"You're not mad?" Hailey's face brightened just a little, but the words were still slow and cautious.

Sydney was sure she had been careful to only show her daughter her cheerful self, even if that self was fake and forced. She had been smiling bright, fake smiles, and at least somewhat cheerfully answering questions all day. "Why would I be mad?"

"You and Daddy were talking French. You only talk French if I was bad or if you're mad."

So, the little girl was beginning to catch on. Well, for the most part. Those weren't the only times she and Michael spoke in French, but that was something that definitely did not need to be discussed with a four-year-old… 

"I wasn't mad, Hailey. I was just…" The truth was, she had been mad, but at herself for getting so frustrated, not the children. "…tired."

"And grouchy?" Hailey was definitely beginning to perk up, the guilt and sorrow melting from her face.

"Yes," Sydney smiled. "And grouchy."

"Next time, take a nap," Hailey suggested happily, but then became quiet again. "You promise you're not mad?"

"I promise." It was an easy promise to make; any anger she had felt had melted away the moment her daughter had stepped out onto the porch, innocently asking what "shit" meant.

The little girl held up her hand, sticking her little finger out to her mother. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear," Sydney affirmed, linking her pinky with her daughter's and shaking her hand.

"Oka-ahhh!" The rest of the word was lost in a scream, as thunder rumbled loudly, and Hailey jumped into her mother's arms, forgetting all about getting wet, wrapping her little arms tightly around Sydney's neck and burying her face in her shoulder.

"Shhh…" Sydney rocked back and forth and rubbed Hailey's back. Thunder cracked again, startling Sydney this time, as well. Hailey still in her arms, Sydney stood up and walked toward the house. "I think it's time to go back inside."

Michael met them right inside the door; he had heard Hailey's scream and had been just about to go out and drag them in. "Hey, how're my two beautiful girls?"

Sydney smiled in response, disentangling herself from Hailey and handing her to her father. The little girl wrapped her arms loosely around her Michael's neck, mirroring her mother's dimpled smile.

"We're good, Daddy," Hailey answered sweetly, already much braver now that they were back inside. She reached up and cupped her hands around her father's ear, whispering loudly, "Mommy was scared of the thunder so we comed inside."

Both Sydney and Michael had to hold back their laughter, the first biting her cheeks in an effort to pretend she hadn't heard her little girl's "whisper", while the latter's eyes twinkled as he nodded with mock seriousness at his daughter's information.

"I see," Michael said solemnly, and then whispered back, just as loudly. "Good thing you're here to take care of her."

"Yep," Hailey chirped, kissing her father on the cheek and then turning to face her mother. "You don't need to be scared of thunder, Mommy," she said, with a sympathetic smile. "It's just the angels bowling."

"That's right, sweetie," Sydney nodded, kissing Hailey's forehead and jabbing Michael with her elbow as his face began to twitch with laughter.

Michael straightened and put his free hand on Sydney's head, holding her still while he kissed both her and their daughter. "Now, it's time to get ready for bed," he said, and then added, catching Sydney's eye, "Both of you."

"Yes, Daddy," Sydney teased, stepping forward to softly kiss his lips. "Goodnight, sweetie," she said, turning to Hailey. "Daddy'll tuck you in."

"Night, Mommy," Hailey answered. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

"I won't," Sydney promised, bringing a hand up to smooth her daughter's hair. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"This much!" Hailey responded, spreading her arms wide and almost causing Michael to lose his hold on her as she leaned forward and hugged her mother tightly.

"That's right," Sydney nodded, wrapping her arms around both Hailey and Michael as she returned the hug. "Night, sweetheart."

"Come on, my little girl," Michael said, carrying her away as thunder rumbled once again.

"Daddy?" Sydney heard Hailey ask as father and daughter disappeared down the hallway. "Can you ask Grandpa Vaughn to tell the angels to finish bowling tomorrow? They're too noisy."

Michael walked into the bedroom and found his wife staring out the window at the rain, still in her wet jogging clothes. He crept up behind her, lifting back her hair and planting a kiss on the back of her neck.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, his lips tickling her skin. Normally that would have driven her insane; she would have had him on the bed in an instant. But tonight she was too tired, too preoccupied.

"I couldn't… I just… It's…" She sighed in frustration.

"Syd," he murmured, spinning her around, "You're exhausted." He ran a gentle finger over the deep, dark bags that were under her eyes.

She leaned into him, borrowing from his strength. "You're going to have fun tomorrow."

"I bet," he answered, running his fingers through her hair.

"Do you want me to stay home with them again?" She glanced up at him, her eyes seeming to beg that he would say no. He knew she would do it if he asked, but was praying that he wouldn't. "It might get messy," she reminded him quietly.

"Syd, I've cleaned up vomit before," Michael reminded her gently.

Sydney blushed, remembering how sick she had been with the twins, and how sweet Michael had been, by her side every minute, holding her hair back when she made it to the bathroom and soothing her when she didn't. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and bent her head so he wouldn't see her flushed face. "I'm sorry about that," she whispered, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Don't say you're sorry, Syd." She always insisted on apologizing for the things that she couldn't and didn't have any power over, the things that couldn't be helped. Maybe that's where their daughter had gotten into the habit of becoming insanely guilty every time she did the littlest thing wrong. "Besides," he added, his tone still serious, "Hailey will be better tomorrow, and if it gets messy, I can just keep the twins in the bathtub all day."

"Michael," Sydney sighed, looking up into his eyes. She knew that he was kidding, but if she hadn't known him as well as she did, she wouldn't have been able to tell just by looking at him. "You can't keep the twins locked up in the bathtub."

"Why not?" he shrugged. "Everything'll stay cleaner that way."

"Well, they won't stay for one thing…"

"William will," Michael pointed out. And Sydney knew that he was right. They could lock that child up in a room full of rats, and he would probably just sit there and let the filthy creatures crawl all over him. But there was still the other half of that dynamic duo, for all their identical looks, the two little boys couldn't have been more different.

"Jonny won't," she countered. "And if he goes, William will end up following him. Besides, they're not dogs, Michael. You can't keep children caged up like that."

"Can I keep Donovan in the bathtub?" he asked, his eyes and voice as innocent as a child's.

She swatted at him playfully. "Michael! What am I going to do with you?"

He brought his lips down to hers, kissing her thoroughly. "Kiss me," he answered simply, if a little delayed. "And then go to bed. I can handle the kids tomorrow."

Sydney turned from his arms to gaze out the window again. "I couldn't," she whispered after a moment. "Not today… I don't know why."

"It's all right, baby," he said softly, wanting to hold her in his arms, but careful not to upset her. "You're just overwhelmed."

"I've done worse stuff than this, Mike." A hell of a lot worse. Why was it that she could handle the extraordinary, impossible, crazy events that life had handed her before, but not the seemingly normal ones now? 

"I know." He hated seeing her like this. He loved being able to spend every spare minute with her, but he liked it even more when she was happy, when she smiled. "But you know what? I think you just need a break. Let's go away this weekend, just you and me. To Santa Barbara."

Sydney turned to face him. "But the kids…"

"The twins can stay with my mother, and Jacky can take Hailey," he offered. "They'd love it."

"Michael, they're sick. You don't want to get your mother or your sister's kids…"

"It's Tuesday, Syd," he interrupted her, his voice smooth and patient, but his eyes pleading with her just to accept his offer, telling her that they needed some time alone. "They'll be fine by Friday."

There had to be some catch in this plan, something that would prevent it. They loved their kids more than anything, but the two of them hadn't been able to spend a night alone since Hailey was born. "But…"

"But nothing. My mother and Jacky already agreed to take them."

"Donovan," she said quickly, not exactly sure why she was fighting this. They hadn't spent a night without kids in four years. And maybe that was why. Maybe, for all her frustration with them, she didn't want to spend a night away. It would be difficult… but it would also be just what she needed; heaven, paradise, just for one weekend.

"Eric already agreed to come up to feed him and let him out. And Francie said she'd take care of your flowers. They were more than happy to do it. They can't have any pets in their apartment, and little Drew's already so excited; he loves Donovan.

"Wow, you took care of everything," Sydney mused, raising her eyebrows in awed appreciation. Everything that she could think of, every hole, every tear, every loose thread that she could possibly imagine might in some way prevent them from a weekend of bliss had been smoothed over, prevented from occurring. He had taken care of absolutely everything.

"I had a few extra minutes after I called you and before everything got crazy at work," he said, shrugging. "You sounded like you needed a little vacation."

"Thank you," she murmured, finding herself in his arms again. He hugged her tightly and then tenderly lifted her chin and leaned down, searching for her lips. He brushed against them briefly, but the moment was quickly ruined when they heard wailing from the other room. "It's Jonny," Sydney mumbled leaning against his shoulder.

"How can you tell?" Michael asked, obviously bewildered, but trying to hide it.

"I don't know." She raised her head and peered up at him. "They just sound different."

"It sounds more like William," Michael responded thoughtfully, trying to prove to her that he did know their kids just as well as (if not better than) she did.

"It's Jonny," Sydney answered, smiling at his attempt to prove himself, but quick to demonstrate that he was wrong. "And you better hurry; William will start up any minute. Want some help?"

"No," he responded, shaking his head. "It's my turn now. You go to sleep."

"I'll wait for you to come back," Sydney murmured, still dead tired, but suddenly wanting more than anything not to fall asleep until she was in his arms.

Michael kissed the top of her head and left, heading into the twins' room, not bothering to turn on a light because the nightlight shone so brightly. Jonny was standing against the bars of his crib, tears streaming down his chubby little cheeks. Miraculously, William was still sound asleep in his crib across the room.

Jonny held out his arms to his father as soon as he walked into the room. "Hey, buddy," Michael murmured, careful to sidestep the vomit that had luckily landed over the side of the crib and onto the floor. He picked up his son and cradled him in his arms, the little boy clinging to him tightly.

"Daddy…" Jonny whimpered between tears, rubbing his dirty face into Michael's shirt. The old Michael, the one before Sydney came into his life, would have been disgusted, would have hated to be dirty. But this Michael, the husband, the father, didn't care; he held his son closer, patting his back to calm him.

"Shhh, buddy. It's okay," Michael whispered, glancing at William as the younger twin stirred in his crib. "Come on. We don't want to wake your brother."

"Yum Yum," Jonny answered sadly, holding a hand out to his brother, and saying his name the best he knew how. William could manage to say Jonny's name pretty well when he actually did talk, but his own name was a little too difficult for his brother to manage.

"He's sleeping," Michael responded quietly, surprised that the seemingly invulnerable of the twins actually did need his brother for strength. "Tomorrow you can play with him." Jonny looked once again at his brother and nodded. His tears were already subsiding into hiccups, but Michael led him from the room anyway, taking him down to the bathroom to wash off his face.

Jonny was already falling asleep in his arms when Michael brought him back to his room, and by the time he had finished cleaning up the floor, both boys were fast asleep. He left their room with a whispered goodnight, stopping in Hailey's room before returning to his own and picking the little girl's covers up off the floor and tucking her back in.

"You were right. It was…" Michael began as he walked back into the room he shared with Sydney, but quickly stopped. The lights were still on and he hadn't even been gone ten minutes, but Sydney was already fast asleep on the bed, lying top of the blankets. She had had a long day.

He changed out of his work clothes and made sure the alarm was set before gently moving Sydney off the blankets and underneath them. She stirred and mumbled, her voice slurred with sleep, "Mike, save some cookies for the kids…"

"I will," he promised, smiling as he dropped a soft kiss on her lips. She moved when he touched her, but still didn't wake. Something seemed to be bothering her, even in her sleep, and she murmured something unintelligible and thrashed about. Michael wanted desperately to know what was bothering her, but couldn't find it in his heart to wake her.

"G'night, gorgeous," he whispered, pulling the covers up around her. He moved to his side of the bed and lay down beside her. Somehow, Sydney sensed his presence and snuggled against him. Michael put his arms around her and within seconds, she quieted. He lay awake for hours, watching her sleep in his arms, until he finally nodded off and found her again in his dreams.


	3. O My Old Fears!

Everyday Peril

Chapter 3: O My Old Fears!

~~~

Kathryn, sorry I didn't see your first review before I posted the second chapter, but there will be a plot, I promise. I guess you could say that eventually, everything will sort of come crashing together… One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie, that is a _very interesting alias. Thanks for the reviews from both you and Karmen. I'm glad you like it… Lainie, I cannot believe that you took the time to read all of those stories. Every time someone tells me that, it amazes me… Becky, you are definitely not the craziest person alive. Thanks for sticking with me, both here and at SD-1… Thank you so much for reading, everyone. And especially for the kind reviews. They really make my day!_

~~~

"Don't you think we should just call once to make sure they're all right?"

Michael sighed. Sydney was a tense bundle of nerves next to him in the car, anxious of what might happen to their children in one short weekend away. He had been trying his best to soothe her since they had dropped them off, but…

"Of course I do, sweetheart," he answered patiently, quickly putting a hand over his cell phone as she reached down to snatch it. "But I think we should at least wait until we get there."

Sydney frowned, momentarily upset that his quick reflexes had out-moved her own. "But what if we hit traffic or something? A lot could happen before we get there."

"Syd, we only dropped them off half an hour ago."

"I know, but…" She trailed off and crossed her arms. Michael reached over to change the radio station but stopped when she spoke up again, "Mike, Jonny bumped his head on the coffee table yesterday. I think we should call your mother and tell her to watch him for any signs of…"

"It's just a little bump, Syd. And it happened yesterday. He's not going to get a concussion."

"You're probably right." She settled into her seat, but quickly leaned forward and began flipping through the radio stations, not able to find anything she liked.

"Okay. Now, can you relax? We're going to have a nice weekend together. Alone."

Alone. Alone. Alone. The word seemed to echo in his head. When was the last time they had been alone? When was the last time they didn't have to worry if the door was locked or if the kids were asleep? When was the last time that they could take an entire day of just the two of them, no interruptions?

"It _will_ be nice," she nodded, finally settling into her seat.

"You know, baby," he continued, turning to give her a dimpled smile. "We can do it as long as we want, whenever we want."

"Mmm…" she agreed, closing her eyes and letting the image of his smile on her eyelids melt her. Almost. Beneath her closed eyes, Michael's smile transformed into William's, and just as quickly, William's happy little face burst into tears.

"Mike?" Her eyes snapped open, her voice once again frantic. "I don't think we gave William's blankie to your mother. You know he can't sleep without it."

"Honey, I gave it to her." Along with anything else either of the twins might possibly need for the next thirty-two hours. Hell, those boys were set for the next thirty-two days without question.

"You're sure?"

He was trying as hard as he could not to lose his patience, but one guy could only take so much. They rarely fought, but they were both so stubborn that when they did things could get ugly. Making up would be nice, it always was, but a good part of the day would be ruined. "If I closed my eyes right now, I'd see myself giving it to her and telling her to make sure William had it when he went to bed," he said, unable to resist adding, "And then I'd go careening off the highway… I gave it to her. I promise."

"Okay. I trust you."

"Good."

There was a pause, and Michael relaxed, allowing himself to believe that maybe she was finished. And then she spoke again, shattering any hope for that. "But did you tell your sister that Hailey's allergic to walnuts?"

"No," Michael answered, moving his cell phone to the other side of his seat before she even had a chance to grab for it.

"What?!" Sydney's eyes grew wide and sure enough, she reached for the phone, glaring at him angrily when she found it missing.

"You told her," he continued calmly. "Besides, I think the whole family knows about Hailey's allergy, Jacky included…"

"What if somebody else gives her something with walnuts in it?"

"Hailey knows to ask, Syd." They had her so well trained that the poor little girl would ask before eating almost anything: brownies, potato salad, lasagna... Next, they had to teach her when to be tactful and show her that it was impolite to embarrass their hostess by accusing her of putting walnuts in the macaroni and cheese.

"But remember what happened…?" Of course he did. It had scared the hell out of both of them.

"That was the first and the last time," he interrupted. "Almost all of our family and friends were at that picnic, and no one has put nuts in their cookies since." Michael sighed and tightened his grip on the wheel. This was turning out to be a very long ride. Not that he could blame her; Sydney hadn't been without her children since they were born, and after everything that happened leading up to Hailey's birth, they couldn't be too careful. But things had been fine since then, and Michael was beginning to think that the kids should have spent nights with Grandma more often. Sydney really needed this break.

But he couldn't help smiling as he remembered Hailey's last words to him before she had kissed them goodbye. The little girl had taken one look at her mother, who had been in the kitchen still giving instructions to her aunt, and turned to her father. "Be good to mommy," she had whispered solemnly. "She's not gonna have me to take care of her."

Michael glanced over at his frazzled, worried wife. Maybe his daughter had been right. He would have thought that having the kids along would have made her even more frantic. It was strange and almost ironic to think that a four-year-old could have had such a calming presence.

"I think we should definitely call her and remind her just in case." Sydney was already digging in her purse for her phone, and somehow Michael managed to snatch it from her before she could dial the number, his nails accidentally scratching her hand.

"Oww! Dammit, Michael!" Sydney jerked her hand back, immediately putting her fingers into her mouth.

"I'm sorry, baby. Are you okay?" He tenderly covered her hand with his own, but she quickly shook it off.

"Yes, I mean, no! You're not taking this seriously at all!"

Hurt and anger flashed in her eyes, but he had had enough. "You know, you're right," Michael sighed. "Something really awful could happen to our children while we are gone. I'm sure that anything that attacked the United States at this moment for any reason at all would be sure to go after the Vaughn children first, screw the president and the White House."

Sydney was silent. "Michael?" she asked after a moment, her voice soft. "I'm sorry. I was being a little ridiculous."

"It's okay, Syd. I'm sorry, too. You are right. A million things could happen to them while we're gone. But there are a million things that can happen when we're there and there's nothing we can do to prevent them."

Sydney nodded. A quick glance into her eyes told him that she had finally given in, completely agreeing. She was finally going to relax.

"So, let's just enjoy our little vacation, okay, baby?" He reached down and put a hand on her leg, covering her own. Sydney was silent for a moment before responding, simply enjoying his touch.

"You mean like this?" she asked, leaning over and nibbling on his ear. Michael grinned, glad that Sydney had finally come to terms with the idea that not having the children with them could actually be a good thing.

"And this?" she continued, dropping her lips to his neck and running a hand over his thigh before he even had a chance to respond to her first question. Scratch that; it could be a great thing, amazing, magnificent, wonderful, fantastic, too tremendous for words…

"Sydney," he breathed. "Wait until…" He groaned as her hand traveled higher, wiggling in his seat. "Hotel, Syd. Hotel," he managed to squeak out. "Car moving. Not a good thing." She had rendered him practically speechless, as she had innumerable times before.

She laughed against his throat, inching her hand just high enough to brush against where he was beginning to ache for her most before breaking all contact with him and moving back to her seat.

"Look at that, Mike," she mused after a moment, giving him time to catch his breath and glancing behind her. "No car seats. We have the whole back seat. And when the car is _not_ moving…"

"Syd…" he groaned, not letting himself look at her, knowing that with just one glance, he would take her up on that offer right on the side of the highway.

She laughed again, a sound that in itself was almost enough to send him over the edge. "Just keep your eyes on the road." It would be difficult as all hell, but God he would try…

"Well, Mike, we're in the hotel," Syd stated, cornering him almost before the bellhop had closed the door.

"Five minutes, Syd." She inched closer to him, running a hand up his arm. "Three, two… thirty seconds…" He gasped as she placed a feather-light kiss into the hollow of his neck. "Hold on, just for a sec," he said, pushing her away. "We promised we'd call my mother as soon as we got here to…"

"It can wait ten minutes."

"Ten minutes! You think that's all I…" he began and then stopped, remembering what he had been saying in the first place. "No, Syd. My mom, she has like Mother ESP or something. She'd know. It'll just take a minute."

"Alright," Sydney acquiesced, sitting on the edge of the bed, not taking her eyes off him.

"Thank you," Michael said, ignoring her burning gaze and taking a seat next to her and pressing his mother's number on his speed dial. He waited for her to pick up, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hi Mo-ahh-m…"

Sydney had swung herself over his legs, straddling him. He gave her a warning glance. She smiled innocently, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"No, I'm fine. I just… tripped over something…"

He struggled to maintain control as his wife trailed her hands down his arms and up his chest, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"Yes, we're here. And the… the boys… are fine?"

He tried not to sound any different than he normally would have, but was failing miserably. He was starting to sweat, and not just because Sydney had returned her lips to his throat. He was on the phone with his mother, for God's sake. The woman who had given birth to him, changed his diapers, and tucked him in at night. He didn't want her to know that Sydney was…

"Okay, Mom, I…" His voice cracked like a pre-pubescent boy's. Oh dear Lord… "I have to go… Oh, yes, she's… she's right here." He handed the phone to Sydney, who immediately jumped off him. He lay back on the bed, his legs still dangling off the edge, glad that that humiliating moment was finally over. As much as he had liked to believe it when he was thirteen years old, he knew know that his mother wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what was going on. He could tell by her tone of voice, the way she said, "I'm sure you're having a good time, Michael." He knew that if he could see her, her eyes would be twinkling, her lips curling upward on the verge of laughter

"Hi Mom!" Sydney said brightly, sounding as if she had just stepped away from a good book, not from seducing her husband. "Yes, it's gorgeous here!… Well, I'm sure we will. Thank you… Oh my!" She paused, almost choking with laughter, and Michael was starting to worry about what his mother could have possibly told her. "Yes, well, give the boys a kiss for me… I will… Thanks again… Bye!" She tossed the phone onto the desk and returned to Michael's side.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked before she could start anything else. She sure had had a quick change of heart. Not that he was complaining…

"Nothing," she laughed, leaning in to kiss him. "I just love you. And there are no kids here…"

"Hold on," he commanded, sitting up and pushing her gently back, his eyes suddenly serious, but unable to completely lose the gleam that sparkled within them. He had some unfinished business to attend to.

"Mike!" she whined, struggling to get back to him, but he held her firmly at arm's length.

"What did my mother tell you?"

Sydney erupted in laughter, the sound of it melting him. She was doubled over, her shoulders shaking, and when she finally brought her head up to look at him, there were tears in her eyes. She had been so stressed out lately; it was nice to finally see her laugh.

"Oh, Mike…" she began, trying to wipe the grin off her face, but unable to prevent it from popping back up, her lips quivering as she tried to hold in the laughter.

"Syd, it can't possibly be that…"

Her laughter began again, the tears steaming down her cheeks this time as she grasped his arm for support. "I'm sorry…" she gasped, trying to catch her breath and noticing that his face was beginning to turn red. "Oh, Mike," she said, softly this time, grinning at him sympathetically. He let her move closer to him and wrap his arms around her. "It's just that…" she looked away, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"Sydney Vaughn," his voice was stern and commanding, as if he had once again become her handler from the early days when they had just met. "I threaten to withhold myself and my body if…"

"No!" she yelped, leaning forward and pushing him back onto the bed with the weight of her body. She kissed his nose, his forehead, and his eyes, before brushing her lips quickly against his own and pulling away. "You wouldn't…"

He pulled her back to him, silencing her with a hungry, passionate kiss. They had been together more times than he could count (not that he hadn't tried) and he still couldn't get enough of her.

"You couldn't," she corrected as she pulled back.

"True," he said, pulling both of them upright and shrugging, making a show of pushing her away and refusing to look at her. "Give me a minute to think of another threat."

Her laughter tinkled in the air once again. "Oh, Michael. It's not that embarrassing, really."

He shot her a look. If he knew his mother, this story was sure to be just the opposite of that. Sydney already knew countless stories of his childhood, and his mother was nowhere near out of ammunition.

"Well," she began, "She only said that if we went to the beach to be sure that I watched you every second, and that you kept…"

"Oh no!" he interrupted, smacking his forehead and groaning. "My swimming trunks on."

"That's right. Have you heard this story before?" she teased.

"Syd," he said, shaking his head, "I lived it."

"Well, not that I would mind having to rub aloe there, but…" she trailed off, grinning.

"Syd, I was three years old. It was hot. The beach was practically empty. We were watching the clouds and I fell asleep…"

"I understand, baby," she soothed, leaning her head on his shoulder and rubbing his back. "Poor little guy."

He wasn't sure if she was talking about his three-year-old self or his…

She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling, smiling wickedly. Damn, she was hot. "Do you want me to kiss him better?"

And there was his answer.

She didn't wait for a response before she brushed her lips against his throat, pushing his already-unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, and blazing a burning path down his chest and abdomen. She stopped just above his belly button, and he pulled her head up to hers, capturing her lips with his own.

"I think," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth and trailing his lips down her jaw. "We should get rid… of the kids… more often."

"Mmm…" she agreed, his lips tickling her throat. "Michael…" she murmured, bending her neck to allow him better access.

"Hmm?" he asked, kissing every possible inch of her skin that he could reach.

"I… Oh, God…" he noticed the change in her tone immediately, quickly stopping what he was doing and sitting up in time to catch her as she swayed before him. She put a hand to her forehead and blinked, dazed.

"Syd, baby?" He cupped her cheeks with both hands, turning her face up to him. She held onto his shoulders as if trying to keep her balance. "What's the matter? Another headache?"

She gazed up at him for just a moment before closing her eyes. "I'm just… It's… The room's spinning," she whispered.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

"You've made me dizzy before, Michael," she said softly, smiling weakly at him. "But this is… this is something else…" she trailed off, wobbling as the room went out of focus and began to fade slowly to black. Her eyes widened, as if attempting to let more light in to counteract the darkness.

"Syd?"

His voice, soft but worried, brought her back before the blackness consumed the whole room, before she fainted in his arms. He lifted her, tenderly laying her back on the bed. "I'll get your medicine."

"It's not a headache," she said, grabbing his arm, eyes still closed. "Not really. I'm just dizzy and nauseous and…" She brought a hand to her head again. "Damn," she whispered. "Yeah, could you get it for me?" It couldn't hurt… right?

He nodded, rummaging through her purse, finding the bottle, and bringing her a pill and a glass of water. She took it from him. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. "Don't say you're sorry. You must've caught what the kids had."

She smiled faintly and nodded, hoping he was right. "Damn flu."


	4. Smothering Heights

Everyday Peril

Chapter 4: Smothering Heights

~~~

Thanks for the reviews, Kiki, WishingStar, Okelay, coolbeans, and One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie. Please keep it up, I love them!... And I bet Hooker Jane scares the crap out of all the other Barbies. ;^)

~~~

The nausea and dizziness subsided completely later that afternoon, but sensing that his wife would not be in the mood to eat anything, Michael suggested that rather than going out for dinner, they stroll along the beach. They walked in silence for what seemed like miles, deciding without words to carry their sandals and walk barefoot, their footprints quietly creeping after them, the only proof that they had been there at all.

Other than to unclasp their sandals, their hands remained linked throughout the trek; they didn't stop until the sun began to set. The pinks and golds were gorgeous, almost as much as the woman whose fingers were entwined with his own. He wanted to tell her what he was thinking with more than just words, but he had already tried to kiss her and been denied. Simply telling her would be difficult enough; he had tried to strike up conversation and each time had been answered in soft monosyllables, bringing a quick end to any exchange that could have occurred between them.

So as they watched the sun set, he brushed his lips against her ear, murmuring, "You're beautiful. I love you." Short, sweet, and to the point. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and ravish her on the beach as the waves crashed around them, but her whispered thanks and small, almost forced smile told him that that would not be possible. Something was bothering her, something more than the flu. He wished that he knew what it was. He wasn't without ideas, but he loved her too much to ask her which one was right.

Her sleep that night was restless. She tossed and turned in the bed, mumbling his name, and not even becoming still when he put his arms around her. Usually his touch would quiet her, but not tonight. She struggled out of his arms, murmuring in her sleep that she was sorry, that she couldn't do it. He wished that he could attribute her dream-induced words to her regret that the vacation had been spoiled, but somehow he knew that that was not the case.

"Mike…" she whispered, thrashing again. Usually he would be glad that he was still Mike or Michael during her nightmares, deciding that he wouldn't have to wake her unless she mumbled his last name. Only then did he know that her dreams were haunted by the memories of years ago, the ones that even time could not erase.

But tonight he didn't follow his usual course of action. She murmured his first name again and he woke her with a gentle shake and a whisper, not needing any more words to tell her what was going on. Silently, he gathered her into his arms. She didn't sleep again until the sun was already streaming in through the windows. He knew because neither did he.

And when he woke her later that morning, and she jumped out of bed, leaning on the wall for support as she made her way as quickly as she could to the bathroom, he knew without a doubt, even before she spoke the words upon her return, that she probably didn't have the flu.

Michael was in the kitchen when Sydney came home, trying to decide whether the spaghetti was cooked all the way through without scalding himself with the boiling water. The moment she walked through the door, however, the pasta was forgotten. The crestfallen look on her face told him the answer to his question even before he asked it. "So…?"

She nodded, slamming her purse down on the kitchen table. Her answer hadn't surprised him in the least. He had suspected it almost since she had first gotten "the flu." He knew everything about her, every freckle, every bruise. He knew when and why she had gotten every scar and wanted to kill every single person who had caused each and every one. Michael had spent too many nights memorizing her body to be able to forget anything now. He could read every look in her eyes just as well as a mother could translate her newborn baby's cries.

"Okay," he answered, not really sure what else to say. But the second the word left his lips, he could tell that it had been the absolute wrong one to utter. Her eyes flashed and he could see the color rise in her cheeks. She had had the entire ride home to go through denial; now she was convinced that it was real, and her frustration came crawling out.

"Okay?" she asked, her voice low and threatening. "That's all you can say? Okay?"

"Syd, I… It…" He always became flustered when she was angry. Never scared of what she might do or unsure of whether she would ever snap out of it; he was simply searching for a way to appease her, as he knew he inevitably would. He had had that power over her almost since the day they had met and it was something he intended to hold with him forever.  
  


"It's not okay, Michael!" Her voice was rising with each syllable spoken and he knew that now was not the time to take her in his arms. Although he knew that she would never hurt him, he never forgot that his wife could kick his ass in ten million different ways, maybe more depending on what room they happened to be in; there were knives in the kitchen…

"Shh, Syd. The kids…" Usually this one worked. They both loved their children more than anything and did not want to upset them. But, given the circumstances of the argument, the subject of children was definitely not the one that would calm her. He should have known.

"Oh God, Michael. Kids. How the hell am I…"

He crossed the kitchen as she spoke, putting a hand on her shoulder and whispering a soft warning. "Syd…"

She shook his hand off her. For a second he didn't think she had heard him at all, and was about to try to silence her again, when he suddenly realized she had switched to French mid-sentence.

"… supposed to do it? I could barely handle taking care of three kids the other day, there is no way in hell I can handle more of them. Not now, probably not ever."

He understood her completely. Most days he had his hands full just dealing with the three they already had. Maybe in a few years they would have been ready to add another to their family, but now was definitely not the time he would have chosen.

"What do you want to do, Sydney?" he asked, continuing with the French. He paused, suddenly realizing the gravity of his next thought, of what he was about to say. He really didn't want to, but knew it wasn't entirely his choice. He had to present her with all the options and support whatever decision she made. Michael began again even quieter, his voice almost a whisper. "I guess if you wanted, we could…"

"Oh, no!" Sydney cut him off before he even had a chance to finish, knowing what he was going to say before the words came out of his mouth. He was relieved, but only for an instant before he noticed that what he had been about to say had inflamed her even more. "Never! Dammit, Michael, what do you think I…" She trailed off, her anger causing her words to become jumbled, leaving sentences unfinished.

Sydney turned and, picking up a washcloth, began to scrub at the sink. But a moment later, she threw the cloth down and put her hands on the sink's edge, taking a deep breath. This quick lapse into cleaning and a breath of fresh air seemed to calm her and her voice was softer as she said, "I am going to be one of those mothers in the frozen food section of the grocery store that has twelve kids hanging off her."

"Well, it's better than being one of those old cat ladies," he said before he could stop himself. Step Two: If the children don't work, try humor. "And I'm going to be there with you every step of…"

But she didn't hear the second half of his statement. "Cats!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, her raging frustration returning. He had struck out for the second time and was quickly running out of ideas.

She was shouting again as she rummaged through the cabinets, finally removing a wine glass. "How in God's name could we let this happen?!"

Michael reached forward to take the wine glass from her hand. "Syd, you shouldn't…" He had his hand on it, but she pulled back with more force than he had anticipated. The glass went flying through the air, shattering into a thousand crystal shards that rained down across the floor.

"Shit!" Sydney yelled, and then turned her angry gaze to her husband. "I wanted some water, Vaughn, not wine." He knew that she had only called him that in anger, but he still flinched. She didn't notice, too intent on what she was saying. "In case you haven't noticed," she gestured towards the counter, cluttered with dirty dishes, and the nearly-empty cabinet," there are no clean… Do _not_ walk through this kitchen! There is broken glass all over the floor!"

Hailey was standing frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, but not because she was heeding her mother's warning. In her haste and frustration, Sydney had forgotten to switch back to English and the loud, angry French had frightened and shocked her daughter.

"Don't walk through the kitchen, sweetie," Michael said softly, translating the words but not the tone in which they had been spoken. "You don't want to hurt yourself on the broken glass."

The little girl didn't say a word, not once taking her eyes off her mother. Suddenly, Sydney understood. The anger and frustration dripped off her, and subconsciously linking her hand with Michael's, she murmured. "We're not angry with…" she stopped, changing her mind. "We're not angry."

Hailey didn't appear to believe her, the frightened look not leaving her face, but her eyes straying from Sydney's to gaze at the ground.

"I promise, Hailey," Sydney continued, fumbling for something that would satisfy and calm her daughter. "Mommy and Daddy speak French when we really love each other, too. Not just when we're mad."

Michael nodded, unaware of what had been said between mother and daughter on the porch the other day, but quickly catching on. "That's why they call French the language of love."

"Really?" Hailey asked in a tiny voice, finally daring to speak.

"That's right," Michael answered. "See?" He turned, his face close to Sydney's, gazing into her eyes and tracing the outline of her lips with his finger. "Je t'aime, Sydney Vaughn." He kissed her soundly before letting go of her hand and reaching down to hug his daughter. "Je t'aime, Hailey."

"What does that mean?" The little girl asked when her father let her go.

"It means that I love you," he answered, kissing Hailey's forehead.

"It sounds pretty."

Michael gave her a small smile. "Yes it does." He stood and gave her a gentle push out of the room. "Now go in the other room with your brothers and we'll be there in a second."

"Okay," Hailey said brightly. Sydney wished everything could be taken care of that easily. Her daughter turned back before leaving. "And I love you and Mommy. Just pretend I said it like you did, Daddy. It's too hard for me to say."

She skipped out of the room before either of them could respond. Michael clasped his hand with his wife's and kissed her knuckles. "How could you not want to have eleven more just like her, Syd?"

She sighed. "I'm just thinking realistically, Michael. And I know I can't handle it. Not right now."

"I know, baby. But it looks like we don't get much of a say in things. It's not like we can tell it to wait until we're ready."

Sydney smiled in spite of herself, running her thumb in slow circles over his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder. "It's just that you know how bad it was last time I was pregnant. And after that, we were supposed to be living the American dream, a house, a dog, two kids: a girl and a boy, Hailey and William Jonathan. And then William Jonathan turned into William _and_ Jonathan. I don't know…"

"Who cares about the American dream, Syd. This is _our_ dream. And our family just wouldn't be the same without either of the twins."

Sydney closed her eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like if William Jonathan Vaughn had been a reality, if things had worked out as they had planned. It just wasn't possible. Sometimes things aren't meant to follow the plan.

She took her head off his shoulder and turned to face him. "Yeah, but what if it happens again? Four kids will be bad enough, but what if it turns out to be five or six?"

"The chances of that happening are slim to none."

"But there still is a chance."

"There's always a chance, Syd. Hell, the two of us are nothing but one big chance. Was there a time when SD-6 was still going that you actually thought we would end up together?" He still couldn't believe it himself, and thanked God each day for what chance had brought him. "But look at us now. And I'm willing to take whatever life hands us as long as I'm with you."

She was melting at his feet, a puddle of sugar on the ground. Oh sweet Jesus. How could one woman be so lucky?

So she gave him the only response she could think of. "Okay."

He grinned at her. "That's all you can say?" he teased. "Okay?"

"Yep," she nodded. "Except I think that maybe we should clean up this glass and tell the kids. Hailey deserves a better explanation."

"You sure you're ready for that?" She had just come to terms with the information herself, and he was still trying to believe it, although he wouldn't let her know that.

"No, but let's do it anyway." She was anxious about the telling more than anything else. Once it was over, everything would be fine. And kids love babies, there was sure to be nothing to worry about.

They quickly cleaned up the broken glass and walked hand in hand to the other room. They found their three kids seated together on the couch, Hailey sandwiched between the twins, who were both charming little bookends. She was telling them something, but they couldn't hear the words from across the room. Michael grinned back at Sydney, the scene too perfect for words.

"Hey guys," Michael said as they entered the room. "Your mom and I have to talk to you, okay?"

Hailey nodded vigorously as her mother and father sat on the loveseat near the couch. "I already telled William and Jonny all about French," she exclaimed happily. "So you don't have to talk about that."

"That's good, sweetie," Sydney answered carefully. "But this is something a little bit different."

"Can you say "I love you" in a different way?" Hailey asked excitedly, not bothering to hear what her mother had said.

Sydney nodded. She could say that and so much more in more languages than the little girl could count. "I'll teach you later."

 Hailey's eyes lit up. She was almost bouncing in her seat. "Hurry and talk, Daddy, so Mommy can teach me."

"You'll have to wait, Hailey," Michael answered patiently. "This is important."

"I thought you said family and love were the most importantest things.  And Mommy's in my family and she's gonna teach me about love." She seemed to have everything all wrapped up and tied with a ribbon. Too bad things weren't that simple.

"This is about family and love, too," Sydney responded, seeing that Michael needed some help with their almost overly inquisitive daughter.

Michael nodded in agreement. "Do you remember when Mommy had William and Jonny?"

"Yup," Hailey chirped, proud that she knew this information. "They were just little babies, and they cried and sleeped all the time."

Sydney frowned. She had hoped that the first thing out of her daughter's mouth would have been about how much she enjoyed the little twins. "But you liked to play with them and help me and Daddy take care of them, right?"

Michael knew that this was worrying her; maybe the children couldn't see it, but the anxiety was clearly written all over her face.  He wanted to get it over with. "Wouldn't it be fun to have another little baby to play with?"

Hailey's bright smile disappeared, replaced by a curious frown. As young as she was, she was beginning to see where this was going, and was determined to put a stop to it. "No thanks. I can play with William and Jonny. And they don't cry so much anymore."

"Hailey, sweetie, what your Mommy and I are trying to tell you and William and Jonny, our important news about family and love…" Oh God, was he stumbling with this one. It had been so much easier to tell Hailey that she was going to have twin brothers, she was so much smaller and took everything easily, probably not really understanding, and more than willing to go with the flow. "Sweetie, we're going to have a baby. You and Jonny and William are going to have a little brother or sister."

The little girl's face fell and Michael felt Sydney stiffen next to him. Hailey had thought that if she told her parents that she didn't want another baby in the family, they would have agreed with her and that would have been the end of it. "But I have William and Jonny."

"Maybe you'll have a little sister to play dolls with," Michael tried, hoping there was an easy solution to this.

"William plays dolls with me sometimes," Hailey pointed out. The easy-going little boy was willing to please everybody and would sit and play with whatever and whoever happened to be in the room. "I don't want a little sister. And I already have two little brothers."

He saw the color drain from Sydney's face, the smile that he had just recently put there, gone completely. She was already apprehensive about this as it was, and didn't need a four-year-old telling her that they didn't need another baby in this house.

"I'm sorry, angel," Michael said, standing up to hug her. "But there's nothing we can do about that. I'm sure that by the time this baby comes you'll be ready to love him or her just as much as you love William and Jonny."

Hailey struggled out of his grasp and ran across the room. "I don't want there to be another baby in this house!" she shouted, hands on her hips, her bottom lip quivering as she fought back tears.

Catching on to his sister's anger, Jonny began to yell, "No, no, no, no!" It was still his favorite word and probably would be for the next sixteen years. William sat silently beside his brother, ignoring the fact that Jonny was now slapping his knees in time with his chants.

"Hailey…" Sydney tried, her voice wavering. Hailey's outburst had been enough, but with Jonny's shouts added to it, she was going over the edge fast. Michael could see her swallowing the sobs that threatened to rattle free from her chest.

"I don't want you to teach me ever." Even from across the room, Michael saw a stubborn tear roll down her cheek. The little girl angrily wiped it away and ran from the room, shouting behind her, "I don't love you anymore or Daddy either!"

Her daughter's words were spoken in anger, just as her own had been only minutes ago, but still they hung thick and dark around her head, threatening to smother her as they echoed in her ears. She barely felt or heard Michael as he moved past her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and murmuring, "I'll take care of it." 


	5. A Tale of Two Verities

Everyday Peril

Chapter 5: A Tale of Two Verities

~~~

Thanks for the reviews, Kiki, WishingStar, Leo's l'il Sista, One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie (you crack me up), and of course, Dream Writer 4 Life (who I forgot to mention last time, and was nice enough to review anyway. Sorry!). You guys are great!

~~~

Michael walked down the hallway and knocked softly on his daughter's door. Usually, Sydney dealt with this sort of thing, knowing exactly what to say to have their daughter laughing and smiling again in less than five minutes. This would be his first real father-daughter talk. Or at least it would be if Hailey actually let him in the room.

"Go away!" he heard her tiny voice call from behind the door. She sniffled and he could tell she was trying to hide her tears. Just like her mother, the little girl never wanted to appear vulnerable. Even when her cousin had pushed her down at the playground, leaving her with a scraped knee and blood dripping down her leg, she had refused to shed anything more than a few surprised tears.

Ignoring her shouts, Michael opened the door and poked his head in the room. Hailey had her back to him, busily putting things into her backpack: her doll, her favorite nightgown, the little teddy bear that Jonny and William had "given" her when they were born.

"Going on a trip?" he asked, stepping inside her room.

"I'm running away," she answered quickly, and then spinning around and remembering that she hadn't wanted him in her room in the first place, said, "Go away."

"Can't I just talk to you for a minute?" Michael asked. She looked ready to snap at him again, so he added, "Since this'll be the last time, with you running away and all."

Hailey considered that for a moment and gave in, nodding. The child was like her mother in more ways than he could count. Although she had a fiery temper, she never stayed angry long. And even though certain tactics definitely could not be tried, if she was indeed as like her mother as he suspected, it wouldn't be difficult for him to calm her again.

"I can't talk for a long time," Hailey answered. "I have to go soon. Afore it gets dark out."

"I understand," Michael nodded, pretending to look over the things she was packing. "Where are you going, anyway?"

The little girl began to shrug, but then changed her mind, putting her hands on her hips, seeming to just recall that she had been mad at him. "Somewhere you'll never find me. Or Mommy or Jonny or William. Nobody will ever ever find me. 'Cept maybe spies and detectives like in the movies."

She turned her back to him again and kept putting little knick-knacks into her bag, and Michael grinned. If she only knew the irony of that statement. He and Sydney had decided that their children didn't need to know about their past until they were old enough to understand it. As far as they knew, their mother was a teacher and their dad had some boring desk job at the CIA. They didn't like having to hide the truth, but knew that the last thing they needed was Hailey's preschool teacher saying that she could not advance to kindergarten because she was telling lies to her schoolmates about how her mother had been a spy and her father had killed her kidnapper.

This was probably the wisest course of action considering their previous experiences with their daughter and things that were meant to be kept secret. One Saturday morning, Hailey had walked in on a sleeping Sydney and Michael, who had both been too tired to dress after the activities of the night before. Unfortunately, Jack had come for lunch that day and got an earful about how both his granddaughter and daughter had seen Daddy's penis that morning, and somehow Mommy had slept the whole night without knowing that Daddy didn't have any clothes on.

Needless to say, all three adults turned a shade of red darker than any crayon found in a Crayola box, and Michael received a private speech concerning the appropriate sights for little girls, and the benefits of both clothing and locked doors. There were definitely some things that their daughter was too young to be told and that they didn't want the entire world to know.

"That would make us very sad," Michael answered after a moment, sitting on the edge of her bed. "We would miss our little girl."

"No you won't," Hailey said, turning to look at him, her soft eyes both sad and angry. "A new baby can be your little girl."

So there it was. Poor little Hailey thought she was going to be replaced, that her parents wouldn't be able to love her and her brothers and a new baby all at the same time. At least now that he knew what was troubling her, he could work to right it.

"Is that why you don't want the baby, Hailey?" he asked her carefully, gently. "You're afraid Mommy and I won't have time for you?"

"No!" But she answered a little too quickly, with a little too much force. Her hands returned to her hips and she stomped her foot as she said it. She had already betrayed her true feelings. There was nothing she could do to take them back.

"Then why aren't you happy about it?"

But Hailey didn't answer the question, instead turning the tables on her father with an accusation of her own. "_You_ weren't very happy. And Mommy wasn't."

Maybe it would have been better to tell the kids when they were feeling more secure about all of this themselves, when they had come to terms with it completely and were ready to spread joy of it, not simply the information. He had forgotten that just as the children's looks and personalities mirrored their own, so could their behaviors and emotions.

For a split second, he thought he would have to lie to her, to tell her that he was overjoyed with the news of the newest little Vaughn. But even as he opened his mouth to speak, he realized that he didn't have to lie. "I am happy, Hailey. I promise you that. A new baby means I have someone else to love, just as much as I love you, your brothers, and your mother."

Hailey didn't seem to buy that. She didn't respond, instead zipping up her backpack and swinging it onto her shoulders, looking expectantly at her father.

"If we had told you how happy we were, would you have been happy too?"

"No," she answered simply, shaking her head. "I don't want there to be another baby. I have to go run away."

"Okay," Michael sighed. "But don't you think you should take a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with you? You might get hungry."

Hailey crinkled up her nose. "I hate jelly."

"Peanut butter then. Come on."

"Okay," she sighed. "But it has to be fast."

"I'll be as quick as I can." He took his daughter's hand and led her out of the room.

Hailey sat at the kitchen table as he got out the peanut butter and the bread. "Next time you go to the store, can you get the peanut butter that squeezes out?" she asked him.

"Sure," he answered, smiling to himself. "But only the twins will be able to try it. You'll probably be far away where we'll never find you."

"Oh, I forgetted that." Her answer was quick and sure, but she appeared to be contemplating whether this new peanut butter would be worth staying home for.

"Before you go," Michael began, spreading the peanut butter on the bread, "you should probably know that what you said earlier made your mommy very sad. She loves you very much, Hailey, and it hurt her feelings that you said you didn't love her back."

Hailey's face fell, but she shrugged. "The new baby will love her."

Michael finished putting the sandwich in a baggie and knelt down to be at eyelevel with his daughter. He would have to try something else. "Hailey, do you have any idea how much your mother and I love each other?"

The little girl would have to be blind in order to not have seen her parents display their affection. Some children never saw their parents kiss or even embrace, but not Hailey and her brothers. Kisses and hugs were something to be cherished and shared in the Vaughn family, among all its members, but especially between Sydney and Michael.

"I thought of her every moment of every day before we were married, and still think of her constantly now. I love your mother so much that I don't think they make a measurement big enough for me to tell you." He paused, making sure his daughter's eyes were focused on his own. "And that's how much both of us love you and your brothers. When you came along, I didn't stop loving her even a little bit, and when your brothers were born, the love we had for you was still just as strong. Love just keeps getting bigger, Hailey. There is always more to share."

Hailey's eyes grew wide as he gave his speech, and he thought she must be considering what he had said. Michael thought that his little talk hadn't been that bad, and was beginning to wonder if Sydney had been in earshot, hoping that she had heard it.

But Hailey quickly shattered his confidence and his ego with what she said next. It wasn't about love or how she was finally happy that they were having a new baby. "You knew Mommy before you got married?"

"Of course," he laughed. "It's like how Uncle Eric and Aunt Francie know each other."

The little girl looked suddenly confused. "But if they're not married, how come they live in the same house? And how do they have Drew?"

Oh God. Wrong example. She opened her mouth to ask something else, and he knew that the answer to her next question would involve either the stork or birds and the bees if they kept this subject going. And to say that Sydney would be pissed if their four-year-old daughter came away from this conversation knowing where babies came from would be an understatement.

"And I loved your mommy very much, but we had to wait until we could get married. We've been married for almost… seven years." Had it really been seven years already?

"Is seven a lot?"

"It's this many fingers," he said, holding one of her hands open and closing three fingers on the other. "Three years older than you," he continued, pressing down the two fingers on one hand and her thumb on the other, one by one.

"Free years!" she exclaimed, holding her hands up to her face. "Wow… You and Mommy must be old."

"Not yet," Michael answered with a smile and stood up. "Now, my little girl, you better get going. It's going to get dark soon, and I need to make dinner."

Hailey jumped off the chair and walked over to the stove, trying to see what was cooking on top of it. "What's for dinner?"

"We're gonna have…" A glance in the pot still simmering on the stove informed him that he had achieved a new level of cooking greatness: burnt spaghetti. "Pizza."

If the squeezable peanut butter hadn't won her over, he thought this definitely would have. And for a moment, it looked as if it had worked. He could practically see the gears working in Hailey's head, convincing her that it was a good idea to stay. But this little girl was the product of Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn. And as stubborn as ever.

"I have my sandwich," she stated, putting her backpack on once again. "Bye, Daddy."

"Bye, angel."

Hailey looked at her father expectantly, waiting for him to run over to her and beg her not to go. But he wasn't even looking in her direction, already flipping through the phonebook for the number of the pizza parlor.

Michael watched her walk out the door and then glanced at the clock. His mother, of course, had regaled them with numerous stories of his childhood attempts to run away. The longest he had made it was half an hour, and that had been when he had stolen Jacqueline's comforter and tried to convert it into a tent in the backyard. Hailey was sure to give in before that. He hoped.

Sure enough, as soon as he had finished cleaning up his sorry attempt at dinner, the backdoor squeaked open and the little girl poked her head inside.

"Is the pizza here yet?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope, not for half an hour," Michael said, shaking his head. "And you'll probably be long gone by then."

"Oh, okay," Hailey frowned and shut the door again, but didn't leave the back steps. Michael waited. Minutes later, the door opened again. "Daddy?"

He looked up from the sink, where he had quickly pretended to look busy. "Hailey, is that you? I didn't think we'd ever see you again."

"Can I come inside, please?" Her voice was tiny and he knew she had given in.

"Of course. I'm sure your mother would love to see you again, and you can tell us all about all the places you've been before you have to leave again."

"I only went to the backyard," Hailey said softly, looking down at her shoes. "Daddy, I was thinking… Maybe can I please stay? Even if we have a new baby, and you and Mommy don't love me so much?"

"Oh, Hailey." Michael quickly put down the washcloth and scooped his daughter up, kissing her nose and cheeks. "Of course you can stay. But we're going to keep loving you more and more everyday. Even with the new baby. Okay?"

"Okay!" Hailey exclaimed brightly, wrapping her arms around her father and nearly cutting off his air supply with the force of her hug. "Only, can I have pizza for dinner and not my sandwich?"

"Yes, but only if you go tell Mommy that you're sorry."

"I will! I'm very sorry. I promise."

Michael put her down, and she started to run into the other room, but skidded to a stop and ran back to him. "Daddy!" she cried frantically, wrapping her arms around his legs and peering up at him. "Will Mommy still teach me to say "I love you?" Even after I telled her that I didn't love her?"

"I bet she will," Michael answered, trying not to smile. "But you'll have to tell her you love her again."

"I do love her, Daddy! And I love you!" She brightened suddenly. "Tell me how to say it in French, Daddy. Please! Then there'll be so much love she'll _have_ to teach me!"

"Je t'aime," Michael said. " Je t'aime. Can you say it, Hailey?"

"Je t'aime," the little girl repeated, rolling the word almost perfectly off her tongue. "Did I do it right, Daddy?"

"Perfect," Michael praised. "Mommy will love it."

"Thank you!" Hailey chirped, kissing both of his knees and taking her arms from around his legs. "Je t'aime, Daddy!" she called as she ran out of the room.

Of course, Sydney had forgiven her daughter, and although she and Michael were together for practically the rest of the night, they didn't get a chance to really talk until after the kids were in bed. After tucking the twins in, Michael found Sydney sitting in the family room, her back to him.

"You okay?" he asked as he approached her. When she didn't answer, he continued, "Syd?"

She started at the sound of her name, turning to face him and smiling. "Hey." She patted the space next to her and he sat down.

"You okay?" he repeated, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," she answered quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I think we should have waited to tell the kids, but I'm glad that it's over with. Let's not tell anyone else for a little while."

He wished that they wouldn't have to, just to give her a little bit of peace before things started to spiral into craziness, but… "Do you really think Hailey will be able to keep this a secret for very long?"

"She will. She promised. I told her that we were going to keep this a secret just for the five of us." Sydney straightened up to face him, looking guilty. "And I kinda bribed her a little bit."

Michael laughed, bringing a hand up to smooth his wife's hair. "What'd you tell her?"

"Well…" Sydney seemed reluctant to tell him, but finally spat it out. "I sort of promised her that she could help pick out the baby's middle name."

The familiar wrinkles creased Michael's forehead. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Syd. I don't think the this child," he said, placing a gentle hand on her stomach, "will appreciate if it's middle name is Barbie or Elmo."

Sydney grinned and tilted her head, catching the eye of the man beside her. "Actually, she said she wanted to name it after you."

"Really?" Michael asked, his eyes lighting up. "I take it back. She'll be great at picking out a name. What if it's a girl?"

"I asked her that, and she still said she wanted to name her Michael after you. I don't know what you said to her earlier, Mike, but now she absolutely idolizes you."

"Well, she's daddy's little girl," he answered, adding quickly, "Of course, she adores you too."

This man never ceased to amaze her. He was a loving father, a caring husband, a loyal son and brother. He was absolutely gorgeous and would do anything for her. All the pain and horror of her double life had been worth it just for bringing him to her.

"It's okay, Michael," Sydney laughed. "We're going to have four kids. I'm sure one of them is bound to like me."

"They'll all love you," Michael assured her. "Who wouldn't?" He paused for a minute, relishing her smile, her eyes, her face, every part of her. "Four kids…" he said quietly, as if thinking aloud. "How far…?"

"Almost seven weeks," she cut in, knowing what he was asking before he finished. She bit her bottom lip, staring at her feet, "I kind of suspected it for awhile."

But either he hadn't heard her last statement, or it hadn't bothered him as she thought it would. "Wow." He said, lifting her shirt and tenderly stroking her stomach. He had been with her for the other pregnancies, but this still awed him. There was a little life inside of her, one that the two of them had created. "Another baby." He smiled up at her.

"I know," Sydney groaned. "How could we let this happen?" Michael could see the doubt creeping back up on her, the shadow of it hiding in the dim light of the room, waiting until he wasn't looking to grab her full-force. They hadn't exactly planned Hailey, and while they had meant for William Jonathan to be born, having William _and_ Jonathan was certainly a surprise. And now they had this new baby. They definitely could have done better in the Planned Parenthood department…

Michael knew he had one shot to put her in a better mood and he was definitely going to take it. "It's my fault," he murmured, bringing his face close to hers. "I just can't keep my hands off you."

He ran his hands up her sides and down her arms to demonstrate this fact, finally linking his fingers with hers and covering her lips with his own. The kiss started gently but quickly escalated with his rising desire, leaving her whimpering as his lips parted from hers.

"Now," he said, planting a lingering kiss on her lips before pulling away. "You should go to bed. It's been a long day."

"I'll go to bed, Michael," she responded breathlessly. "But there's no way in hell I'm sleeping after a kiss like that."

Michael smiled seductively and Sydney trembled. "Do you think we can put the language of love to use?" he asked in French, voice low and eyes glittering.

"Without a doubt," she answered, taking his hand and leading him from the room.

With the children asleep, and Sydney and Michael enjoying what some would consider less wholesome activities in the privacy of their room, everything seemed perfect. The two of them had, after all, been without trouble for four years, and although they would never forget the dangers of their old way of life, they no longer held them at the forefront of their thoughts.

But what about the hazards of this new life, of ordinary life? Who thinks of the danger of stairs, dogs, cars, strangers, sparks of electricity, or the flames of the stove when they have had treacherous villains and ruthless murderers to deal with in the past? But the way they creep up on their unsuspecting victims, shattering joy with sudden sorrow, can make the perils of everyday life the most malicious of all…


	6. The House of Mirth

Everyday Peril

Chapter 6: The House of Mirth

~~~

lol Legged Hooker Jane Barbie, sorry for freaking you out… Dream Writer, you are hysterical, but thank you… And Kiki and WishingStar, you both are so sweet… Thanks all! Oh and hey, after this chapter the plot starts to develop. I told you it would all come crashing together eventually…

~~~

Michael turned his eyes from the road to steal a glance at his wife. She had been unusually quiet that morning, and things hadn't changed once they had gotten in the car. "Syd, really, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," Sydney answered quietly, barely heard over the loud chattering and laughter of the twins (well, Jonny, at least) and Hailey in the backseat.

"Don't you want to go?" Except for work, she had barely been out of the house at all in the three weeks since they had discovered she was pregnant. He would have thought that she would be glad to go to the barbeque, to get a chance to get out and see their friends.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." That was understandable. The twins were always a handful, and though Hailey was always curious, she had been asking even more questions lately, trying to discover everything she could about the new baby. It was approaching the end of the school year, and Sydney also had more papers than usual to grade, as well as extra work after school to help and reassure students who were anxious about their upcoming finals.

"It'll be fine, baby. Nice and relaxing. Just you and me, and Eric and Francie, and the kids." She nodded, and he thought for a moment. Except for the kids, her father, and his mother, they hadn't told anyone else their news. "Do you think that maybe…"

But he was cut off as Hailey began squealing loudly, "We're here! We're here! We're here!" Sure enough, Eric and Francie's house had come into view, and the little girl had been there more than enough times to recognize it on sight. Jonny began to take up her chant, not really saying the words, but making noise in time with his sister, until the inside of the car was positively pounding with noise.

Michael glanced in the backseat. William, of course, was sitting there quietly, gazing incredulously at his brother and sister. Michael turned to face Sydney. "We're here," he stated, smiling wryly.

"Thanks," she answered, returning his smile and rolling her eyes.

They pulled into the driveway, and the two of them got out of the car and began unbuckling the kids. Hailey was squirming so much that Michael was able to unbuckle both of the twins and come around the car before Sydney had her daughter out of her seat.

"Looks like the Potter's are having a party," Michael said, nodding towards the neighbor's driveway. It was filled to overflowing with cars, some of them lined up along the street.

"I guess so," Sydney responded, following his gaze. One of the cars caught her eye. There was only one person she knew who drove a car like that: Will Tippin. As a matter of fact, all of them looked familiar. "Hey, isn't that…"

"Hey!" someone called loudly. "Syd! Mike! It's about time you got here!" Francie was walking around the house, nearly tripping over the adorable little boy hiding behind her legs.

"Hi, Fran," Sydney answered, almost drowned out by her daughter's shouts.

"Auntie Francie!" Hailey called, running up to her and flinging her arms around her, throwing the little boy behind her off balance and landing him on the ground. "Hi, Drew," Hailey smiled at him.

Francie wheeled around to pick him up off the ground, kissing him tenderly, and turned her attention back to Hailey. "Hey there, sweetie," she said, scooping her up. "I swear to God, Syd. She looks more and more like you everyday. And then these two…" she turned to the twins.

As if on cue, two-year-old Drew came running out from behind her, his usual rambunctious personality returned now that he knew who these guests were. "Jonny! William!"

Jonny's eyes lit up and he went toddling toward his friend, nearly colliding with him. William approached the two of them quietly, eyes widening as his friend startled him into a hug.

Sydney couldn't help but laugh. Hailey and Drew's excitement, William's expression… the entire scene was priceless. It alone would have made the whole afternoon perfect. Michael took her hand as Francie led them around the house, calling out just as they turned the corner, "Hey, everybody! The Vaughn crew's here!"

"Wha…?

But Sydney was unable to finish the word. The backyard erupted into applause and cheers, voices crying in unison, "Happy anniversary!"

The faces pin-wheeled around her: Eric, Francie, her father, Michael's mother, Jacqueline, Will, Marshall, Dixon… everyone was there. Smiles glittering, balloons bobbing up and down, the sign tied to the back fence proclaiming "Lucky Seven!", children running through the yard, splashing into the pool now that they were finally allowed to. The excitement and surprise was almost dizzying.

"You okay?" Michael whispered to her, not breaking his dazzling smile. She was the only one close enough to hear him, close enough to see the concern in his eyes.

She nodded just perceptibly, squeezing his hand before letting go and hugging Francie. "How did you…? Why did you…? But…"

Her friend laughed at her stuttering attempts at questions. "We know that your real anniversary's not for another week… But we know you, Syd. You'd catch on and refuse to come."

"No, I…" But with Francie's look and Michael's obviously stifled laughter, she gave in. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"And this was perfect," Francie continued. "Lily and James were away and said we could use their driveway," she gestured to the neighbor's house. "And seven might not usually be a big year, but you were pregnant with the twins for five and had your hands full with them at six… So, it's lucky number seven!"

"Thank you, Francie," Michael said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"You're welcome, Michael," she answered with a laugh. "Syd, I absolutely love this man."

"Hey!" Eric Weiss was at her side in a moment, looking like a lost puppy. If he had possessed a tail, it would have been tucked between his legs.

"Not half as much as you, sweetie," Francie told him, wrapping an arm around him and winking at Sydney and Michael.

"And I saw that too! You owe me, Fran." He tried to capture her lips, but she turned away.

"Later. Tonight. We have company." She struggled out of his grip and pushed him away.

"Awww… Just for five minutes." The man was squirming almost as much as Hailey had been in the car. "Syd and Mike're here now. No one will notice if we slip out…"

"Eric!" Francie swatted at him, but they could all see she was trying hard not to smile.

"Down boy!" Michael commanded, laughing. "God, Eric. You're worse than Donovan."

"Like you can talk, man. I give it five minutes before you're all over Syd."

"Can you blame me?" Michael asked, kissing Sydney softly on the cheek. She was smiling for the first time in almost a week, and he was beginning to remember how he had always found her smile irresistible. He would be all over her now if this wasn't a family gathering…

Sydney kissed him back just as sweetly, but then said, "Mike, don't egg him on."

"Eric Weiss, do not make me regret agreeing to marry you…" Francie said with mock sternness, hands on her hips.

Eric gasped. "Never! Just give me five minutes to prove to you…"

Michael almost interjected with a, _Five minutes is all you can…_, but Sydney sensed what he had been about to say and elbowed him, harder than she had meant to. She still occasionally forgot her own strength, although he swore that sometimes she meant to "forget."

Michael rubbed his ribs, wanting to check to see if they were already starting to bruise, but wanting even more not to give up his tough guy appearance, as Francie shouted at Eric, cutting him off. 

"Dammit Eric!" she exclaimed, quickly lowering her voice. "Oh shit! There are kids here… You two better go say hi to everybody," she said, glancing at the crowd that was slowly drawing closer. She took Eric's hand. "I'll take care of this one…"

"Will you really?" He asked brightly. He was practically drooling and Sydney began to wonder if Francie had been withholding a certain something in order to assure that her fiancé helped her get ready for this picnic.

"Yeah," Francie answered sweetly, bringing her face close to his. "To the pool. Lifeguard duty." They heard him grumbling as the couple left them. And as soon as they were far enough away, Michael's mother pounced on them.

"Look at two of my beautiful children!" she exclaimed, wrapping them both in a hug. "Happy anniversary, and how are you?" While the first half of her statement was directed to both of them, she second part was clearly meant for Sydney.

"I'm fine, Mom." Sydney answered, and Michael noticed that she smiled. A real smile, not one of the _I__'m fine thanks don't ask anymore questions unless you want to get beaten down_ smiles. "Thanks."

"And Michael, are you taking good care of my girl?"

"Of course." He always did. His mother had to know that.

"And my three beautiful grandchildren?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Good boy. Now, I… Jack," She suddenly turned to Sydney's father, who was a few feet away, evidently waiting for his turn to greet his daughter and son-in-law. "Will you come over here? You're family, too, and I don't bite."

Jack grinned, embarrassed, but obeyed, always on his best behavior when Michael's mother was around. "Sydney. Michael," he said, hugging the first and shaking hands with the second, although Michael had to admit that his handshake had become more friendly over the years. Any day now, they would progress to patting each other on the back. Or maybe it would be sooner than he thought…

"For goodness sake, Jack!" Mrs. Vaughn sighed. "Kiss your daughter, and you can hug my son. He's been married to your lovely girl for seven years, and I've taught him not to bite either."

Again, Jack obeyed, quickly kissing Sydney's forehead and awkwardly hugging Michael, his face stony in order to not betray the wild embarrassment he felt.

"Much better," Vaughn's mother praised, evidently not noticing the awkwardness or choosing not to comment on it.

"Everything is going well, I assume," Jack continued. While he hadn't been overjoyed with the news of his fourth grandchild, he hadn't appeared vehemently opposed to it, either.

"Of course," Michael answered.

"Just look at the two of them, Jack," Michael's mother added. "Still so much in love… Well, I'll leave the two of you to greet everyone else. Michael, your sister's here somewhere; make sure you give her a kiss."

"I will," he assured her.

"Good. Now, I'll leave you all to greet the others. I'm going to go see to that snack table." She winked at them.

"I'll go with you," Jack stated, holding out his arm.

"Thank you," Mrs. Vaughn responded, taking his arm. "See, Michael? You could learn a few things from Mr. Bristow."

Michael stared at them as they walked away. "Don't worry, baby," Sydney crooned in his ear. "I'm pretty sure Dad could learn more than a few things from you."

"That's why I love you." Michael smiled, kissing the top of her head.

"I know," Sydney answered. "Now, let's go s…"

"Ms Bris…Mrs. Vau…Sydney."

"Hey Marshall."

"Hi. Hi Mr. Vau… Michael. Uh, I believe that…that this belongs to you." Marshall was holding Hailey's hand. The little girl was squirming, but still held tightly to his fingers. She looked up at her mother brightly.

"Mommy! Can I go in the pool?" She let go of Marshall and put her arms around Sydney's legs. "Please? With Kerri and Seth and Sammy and all the other kids?"

"Sure, sweetie. You have your bathing suit on, right?"

Hailey nodded, lifting up her shirt and showing her. She proceeded to strip down to her bathing suit right in front of them. Marshall seemed at a loss as to what to do and averted his eyes, although there was clearly nothing to see.

"I am all set!" She looked prepared to run to the pool, but her father put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Hold on, little girl," Michael commanded gently. "Come with me to the car and we'll get your swimmies."

"Okay!" Hailey chirped, bursting with excitement. "The ones with the fishies?"

"Yep," Michael answered, and then said to Sydney, "We'll be right back."

"Okay," Sydney responded with a smile. "Wait. Where are the twins?"

Michael smiled. "It looks like Will is uh, entertaining them." He nodded in their direction and Sydney followed his gaze. Jonny, William, and Drew were all gathered around Will, pressing his nose and pulling his ears, running away screaming with laughter as Will made a face or a funny sound, and coming back, seconds later, for more.

Hailey and Michael walked towards the car. Well, Michael walked, Hailey skipped. Sydney watched them go and almost forgot that Marshall was beside her.

"She… she was looking for you. And I, you know, brought her over here," he stammered. "I-I could tell that she was yours. I mean, I've seen her before and everything, but if I hadn't, I would have um, known r-right away."  
  


Sydney smiled at him in encouragement. The man hadn't changed a bit since she had first known him.

"J-just by looking at her. Because she's adorable." Marshall paused, eyes wide. "Not… not that I'm calling you adorable. I mean, you would… could be… are…but…" His face was redder than the ketchup that Francie had just placed on the table. "It's like on _101 Dalmatians_ where they have the… the people and their dogs. And the dogs look just like th-the people, or, you know, maybe it's the people that… that look like the dogs… Except, I mean, she's… she's not a dog, and well… She looks just like you!" He finally spat out.

"Thanks Marshall," Sydney said with a smile. "And thanks for bringing her over here."

"Okay, sure, well, I'm gonna, you know, head on over…" He pantomimed running, giving a nervous little laugh. "… over there…" He walked quickly away, not looking back.

"He's a jumpy little guy, isn't he?" Michael was back and had his arms around her. Hailey was already in the pool, doing her best to splash "Lifeguard Eric" in accordance with Michael's instructions.

"Mmmm," Sydney nodded in agreement, leaning into him.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go sit down."

They headed over to a picnic table that's bench served as one side of a group of chairs, joining Jacqueline, Will, and Francie, and moments later, a dripping, grumbling Eric, who had gladly handed over his wet towel, relinquishing lifeguard duty to Dixon.

They relaxed in conversation for almost ten minutes, all the while Sydney was deciding whether or not the present would be a good time to tell everyone about her pregnancy. But before she could make up her mind, Seth came running over to them.

Had she been listening, Sydney would have heard the choruses of "Did not!" and "Did too!" that were exchanged between Hailey and her cousin before Seth ran into their circle, shivering without his towel.

"Mom!" he shouted as he approached. "Hailey's telling lies!"

Before the words were even finished, Hailey came running in at top speed, jumping on her mother's lap, her eyes wide. "I didn't tell! I didn't tell!"

"Hailey, you can't jump on your mother like that," Michael said softly, lifting her off Sydney's lap and placing her on the bench beside him.

"Seth, I'm sure that…" Jacky began.

"I'm sorry," Hailey whimpered as her aunt spoke.

"No! She is!" Seth shouted, interrupting his mother. "She said that…"

"I'm sorry, Mommy."

"… Auntie Syd told her she could…"

"I didn't mean it…"

"… help pick out a name for…"

"… honest…"

"… the new baby. But if…"

"Don't be mad."

"… Uncle Mike and Auntie Syd were going to have another baby…"

"Don't talk French."

"… they would have telled us."

Somehow, the adults around them were able to pick out what had been said. Both children fell silent and all eyes were on Sydney and Michael.

"Mommy," Hailey said, stepping over Michael and using both hands to turn her mother's face towards her own. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby," Sydney answered, lifting her little girl off the bench and onto the ground.

"It's not nice to tell lies, Hailey," Seth said, shaking his head.

"Actually…" Sydney began. Well, she had been looking for the perfect time to bring it up in conversation and it appeared that the kids had given it to her. "We _are_ having another baby."

Silence. Seemingly interminable, but in reality lasting for mere seconds. It was broken by Seth. Thank God for that child. "Wow. Cool. You were right, Hailey."

"Told you." Hailey crossed her arms over her chest, sticking out her lower lip.

"I… I'm sorry," Seth grumbled, well-taught by his mother. But he brightened quickly, as children often do. "Let's go get the other kids and play hide and go seek!"

"Okay!" Hailey started to run off with him, but quickly came back. "Mommy? Can I still help name the baby? Even if I telled?"

"Yes," Sydney answered. "You kept it a secret for a very long time."

"I know!" the little girl exclaimed. I feeled like it was going to pop out of me!" She threw her hands over her head for emphasis.

Sydney laughed softly. "You did a pretty good job keeping it in. Now, go play."

Hailey nodded and walked off, singing softly to herself as she made her way to the other children.

"So, another love child," Eric said with a smile. "Damn."

"Eric," Francie warned, "the kids."

"These three can't understand me," he answered, gesturing towards Jonny, William, and Drew.

"What's a love child?" a small voice asked. Hailey had returned, and was standing on the picnic bench behind Sydney and Vaughn, resting her arms on the table.

"See?" Francie hissed, giving Eric a small smack.

"It means…" Sydney began, finding herself at a loss for words.

"That your Mommy and I love each other very much, so we decided to have another baby," Michael continued for her.

"And we're all going to love the new baby very much, too," Sydney added, silently thanking Michael for his help.

Hailey nodded, appearing to consider this. "That's what I thinked it was. Bye!" And she was gone for real this time, running off the join the other children, who were already grouping for their game of hide and seek.

"You are _good_," Eric stated, awed, and picked up his son. "This little guy would have totally known about the birds and the bees after asking me that."

"Eric! You can't tell little kids _that_!" Francie looked horrified. If Sydney hadn't known for a fact how much those two really loved each other, she would have wondered what the hell they were doing together.

"It would have just 'popped out' of me," Eric teased, trying to stand up for himself, but no one besides Francie was paying attention to him. Hailey and Seth came tip-toeing back into the middle of the circle of chairs, intent on hiding among the adults' feet.

"Congratulations, guys!" Will exclaimed.

"Yeah," Jacqueline agreed. "That's great!"

"Really?" Sydney asked, and Michael leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

Jacky nodded. "I'm really happy for both of you."

"Me too," Francie added, having torn herself away from Eric. "All four of the kids will be welcome over here anytime you need a night out."

"Or with me," Will offered. "I'll be glad to corrupt them for you."

"Thanks, guys," Sydney said, sighing.

"See, gorgeous," Michael murmured, running a hand through her hair. "That wasn't so bad."

Her response was lost as Michael's lips brushed over hers. She ran her hands up to the back of his head, needing this kiss, savoring it, not caring that everyone was watching.

"Eww!" Seth shouted the moment he noticed his aunt and uncle, springing up and running from the area, willing to sacrifice the safety of his hiding spot for something as gross as a kiss.

Hailey didn't bat an eyelash, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. She waited a few moments longer before jumping up and following her cousin, exclaiming, "You couldn't find me!"

Sensing her need for him, Michael took their kiss deeper, causing Sydney to squirm as she fought to suppress a whimper. She was becoming dizzy. But the good kind of dizzy, the kind she had never felt before Michael, and wanted to go on forever, taking her off her feet, spiraling her out of control.

Slowly, Michael brought her back down to the ground, gently pulling away, and looking deep into her eyes, fighting to catch his breath without it seeming to obvious. They would finish this tonight.

"Jeeeesus!" Eric exclaimed, whistling. "Man, _I _need to jump in the pool after that one. How're you doing, buddy?"

Michael threw an empty cup at him in response, breaking the tension that he and Sydney had inadvertently created in an attempt to release their own.

Eric ignored him. "And with your mom and Bristow right over there. He must not have seen that little PDA or that man would be over here kicking your ass, right now." He turned to Francie. "Do you think seven years after we get married, you'll still kiss me like that?"

Francie rolled her eyes, ruffling his hair.

"Dude," Eric grumbled, pouting. "I get this hair mess up thing and you get tonsil hockey." This earned everyone's laughter. "Speaking of which… Soon you'll have your own hockey team, man," he continued, laughing and stepping up on the picnic table, nearly falling on Sydney in the process.

"Hey, everyone!" he shouted, turning all the heads at the party. "Team Vaughn's gonna have another member. Mike and Syd are trying to give the Kings a run for their money!"


	7. For Whom This Hell Goes

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 7: For Whom This Hell Goes

~~~

Haha, Dreamwriter! I thought you'd enjoy that pun… Thanks, WishingStar. I'm glad you liked that… Thanks, Whitelighter, and you are not slow. That would probably be because I never said it anywhere. And it probably would have been a good idea to say it sometime at the beginning of the story… Sorry about that. I knew I forgot something…

~~~  
  
  
It was one week later, and Sydney stood in front of the mirror, sighing. She was starting to show, and although there was a part of her that was overjoyed at this, another part of her shuddered at the thought of looking fat. It was only natural.  
  
She glanced down at her pants and cringed. They were covered in wrinkles. And it was already 5 o'clock. They had to leave in half an hour if Hailey was going to get there on time. Sydney knew she would never hear the end of it if her daughter were late to her preschool play. What would the three bears do without their precious little Goldilocks?  
  
Well, she did have half an hour. The kids were almost ready, and Michael should be home any minute. Okay, he should have been home any minute for about an hour now, but she knew that he would show up eventually; he always did. Sydney went into the laundry room and plugged in the iron, taking off her pants as she waited for it to heat up. She ran the iron over them a few times, impatiently trying to get the stubborn wrinkles out of the cloth even before the iron had come fully up to temperature.  
  
"Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you look doing that?" Michael was standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other hidden behind his back. He was still in his work clothes, tie loosened and the top buttons on his shirt undone.  
  
"Ironing?" Sydney asked with a laugh. It definitely had to be one of the least sexy chores she could think of. Well, she couldn't think of any chores that were sexy, but ironing was definitely one of the most boring and time consuming.  
  
"Syd, you'd look sexy sorting through garbage as long as you didn't have pants on," he pointed out, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.  
  
She opened her mouth to counter this point, but he shot her down before she could even get the words out. "You do _not _look fat. You are beautiful."  
  
"I am pregnant, Michael. You can't tell me I'm not fat. I'll know it's a lie this time."  
  
"Syd, you're just beginning to show, and even with the twins, you didn't get that big. We have small kids. So, you're just going to have to come to terms with the fact that you're not fat," he teased, coming closer to her. "I love seeing you like this. You're glowing."  
  
"Thanks," she answered with a smile, quickly changing the subject. "Thank God you're home. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied. "It's true. And of course I didn't forget." He kept his left hand behind his back as he advanced, leaning across the ironing board and kissing her soundly. "Happy anniversary, baby," he murmured, pulling a dozen roses out from behind him.  
  
"Michael, they're gorgeous!" Sydney exclaimed, laying down her iron to bring the flowers close to her nose, taking in their sweet scent.  
  
"Almost as gorgeous as you," he responded, smiling at her. "And this."  
  
"What? You didn't need to get…" She always told him that he didn't need to get her anything for their anniversary, having him around was enough. And he always disobeyed. But it was a two-way street; she never followed her own rule, ever ready with something for him as well.  
  
"Close your eyes."  
  
Sydney obeyed, tingling with anticipation as she heard him walk around the ironing board. He spun her around and she gasped in surprise. Before she had a chance to take another breath, his lips were on hers, stealing the air from her lungs. She let him have it without argument, pulling him closer as his fingers danced along the back of her neck.  
  
"There," Michael stated, pulling away. "How do you like it?"  
  
"You know I love it when you kiss me like that, Michael," she answered breathlessly, eyes still half-closed. "You don't have to ask."  
  
He smiled, shifting his gaze from her eyes to her neck. She brought her hand to her throat, feeling the delicate chain around her neck. A glance down rewarded her with the sight of two golden angels resting perfectly above the v-neck of her tank top.  
  
"Oh, Michael! You didn't…"  
  
"I had to. I was in the jewelry store the other day…"  
  
"Because you always just happen to be in jewelry stores," she interrupted him, grinning.  
  
"That's right," he answered, giving her that smile that could melt her faster than ice melted on a hot summer's day. "And it was perfect. You called me your guardian angel before, Syd. And you're mine too, so…" He gestured towards the necklace, unable to find any other words to explain himself.  
  
"I love it. I love you." She stole his lips for one more quick kiss. "Now, you better go…"  
  
"What do you say we surprise my mother and drop the kids off at her house," he interrupted, placing his fingers on her lips to silence her. "She won't mind taking them for a few hours. Or overnight…"  
  
"Oh, sweetie." She ran her thumb over his cheek, smiling at him sympathetically. "You did forget."  
  
"Forget what?" He asked slowly, his forehead wrinkling with confusion and concern. He wrapped his arms around her neck, bringing his face close to hers. "You're Sydney, I'm Michael. Seven years ago today, we were married, although I loved you long before that…"  
  
"Michael, honey," Sydney began, giving him a sweet smile. "Hailey's preschool play is tonight. She's Goldilocks, remember?" She didn't know how he could have forgotten. The little girl didn't have any lines, her teachers were reading the stories and the children were acting them out, but Hailey had been going over what she had to do for days, telling them the fairy tale countless times.  
  
"Dammit!" Michael hissed, leaning his forehead on her own.  
  
"I'm sorry, baby," Sydney murmured, knowing that he wanted to see the play, but wished it hadn't been that night. "We can celebrate tonight."  
  
"Tonight?" he whined. "Syd, I've been thinking about you all day. There is no way in hell I can make it through her play and the damn potluck supper afterwards with you right beside me…"  
  
"Mike?" Sometimes this man was worse than the kids.  
  
"…and I don't think Hailey's teacher or all the parents there will appreciate if…"  
  
"Mike!" The word was almost shouted, but she was still smiling, her voice automatically softening after she caught his attention. "You sound like _you're _the four-year-old…"  
  
"Trust me, Syd," he interrupted, bringing his body closer to hers. "I am not four. Just give me five minutes."  
  
"Now you sound like Eric," she laughed, and he wished she wouldn't. Her laughter was making it worse. He could never resist it.  
  
"No, this is different," he said seriously, "Eric never got his five minutes, and I fully intend on getting mine. Besides, you already have your pants off, it won't even take that long."  
  
"Michael," Sydney began, speaking slowly as if he were indeed four-years-old, "you want to have quick sex, in the laundry room, when three kids all under the age of five could walk in at any time, and we have to be out of the house in twenty minutes?"  
  
"Yes," he answered simply. And at her look of disbelief, added, "It'll be more of a challenge. Add some excitement."  
  
"Michael, in a matter of months, we're going to have four kids. I think trying to do anything without any of them bothering us will be excitement and challenge enough."  
  
"Please, baby," he begged, his hands already roaming all over her skin. "I've been sitting in my office all day… It can be my anniversary present."  
  
"I got you a present," Sydney murmured through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to give in to his touch. "It… It's in the bedroom. I'll give it to you tonight."  
  
"Take it back. I don't want it." Damn, the man could be stubborn. And not wanting a present? This was serious…  
  
"You don't even know what it is."  
  
"I don't care. I want you… I want this more." Oh, shit. He was giving her the puppy dog eyes. He knew she would always give in to them, without a doubt. _Must… avoid… eye… contact…_  
  
"Michael…" It was too late.  
  
His lips were on her neck and suddenly she couldn't remember a single reason why they shouldn't do this. There had to be one. She could think of a dozen of them just three seconds ago. Because… Wasn't it… Something about… Damn. It was hopeless…  
  
The door flew open just as Michael claimed his wife's lips once again. Their little girl stuck her head in the door and they quickly broke apart. Michael frowned and Sydney went busily back to ironing.  
  
"Daddy! You're home!"  
  
And as Sydney regained her breath, she remembered. Reason number one had just walked in the door and flung her arms around her father.  
  
"I thought you forgetted, but Mommy telled me you would never ever ever forget something so important like my play." She peered up at him, eyes full of trust and love.  
  
"I…" Michael began, but Sydney quickly shook her head. Why shatter her perfect image of her father over something so trivial? "… would never forget, angel." He scooped his daughter up, kissing her. "I can't wait to see you!"  
  
"I'm _good_, Daddy! Even mean old Alec said so!" She left out the part about "mean old Alec" telling her she "sucked worse than his father," and how he only grumblingly admitted she was good after being forced to by the teacher.  
  
But Michael knew that part of the story already. Hailey's teacher had relayed it to Sydney, apologetically telling her that Alec came from what could be considered a less than perfect family life, and had picked up all kinds of vulgar language from his mother and her current boyfriend. Fortunately, Hailey hadn't asked any questions about what the boy had said, and Michael and Sydney decided that it was best left alone.  
  
"I'm sure you are, sweetie," Michael responded. "And you're just as beautiful as your mother."  
  
"Mommy…" Hailey began excitedly, but she stopped and her face became horrorstricken when she turned and faced her mother. "Daddy's a boy," she whispered loudly, cupping her hands around her mouth and leaning forward. "You can't let boys see you when you don't have pants on!"  
  
"I'm ironing them, Hailey," Sydney responded, fighting to hold back the laughter. "I'll put them back on as soon as I'm done."  
  
"But Daddy's seeing you now!" Hailey yelped, as if this were the worst news in the world. Was she in for a big surprise a little later in life. "It's like that time when you sleeped and didn't know that…"  
  
"Okay! Hailey!" Michael exclaimed, not wishing to relive the mortification of this story. Seeing Jack's face when it had happened had been punishment enough; he didn't need to picture it again. He put his daughter down, gently pushing her towards the door. "You go finish getting ready."  
  
"I'm all ready!" She sang, but then glancing down at her bare feet. "I just need my shoes."  
  
"Okay, well…"  
  
"But I don't wanna put them on til it's just exactly time to go," she interrupted, wiggling her toes.  
  
His attempts to nicely kick his daughter out of the room were failing miserably. "I have to go get the twins ready in a minute. Are they in their room?"  
  
"Yep," the little girl nodded. "With the gate up. Maybe you'll need to ask Mommy to help you get in."  
  
"Why don't you go check on them?" It was his last chance.  
  
"Okay! I'll go make sure they're still alive!" With that, she left the room, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Michael turned to his wife. Her eyes were dancing as she turned off the iron, and she looked ready to explode. "Don't even laugh."  
  
But his command came too late, and her laughter bubbled forth, frolicking to his ears. His lips curved upward as it consumed him, and he silenced her the best way he knew how.  
  
But she wriggled out of his grasp, grabbing her pants from the ironing board and skirting around him, keeping well out of reach. "We have to go, Michael," she stated, pulling on her pants.  
  
"But…" he tried, using the fact that the act of putting on pants hampered her movement to his advantage as he caught her arm. "She's gone!"  
  
She shook him off, holding him at arm's length. "She'll be back and you know it. And we have to leave soon. Besides," she added, her eyes sparkling, "my father already knows all about how we both saw your penis. He doesn't really need his granddaughter to tell him that she saw Daddy's penis _inside _Mommy…"  
  
"Syd!"  
  
"I mean it, Michael." She was still grinning, but he knew he had lost the battle. She would make up for it later. He planned on putting the kids to bed the moment they got home, whether it was actually dark out or not.  
  
"Come on, little boy," she teased, smiling at his crestfallen face. "Mommy will come help you open the gate, we'll get the twins, and then we'll go."  
  
They started off towards the twins' room, hand in hand, but Hailey almost ran into them on their way there. "Whoa there!" Michael exclaimed, stopping her from ramming into them at full force. "Where are you…?"  
  
"I'm sorry…" Hailey looked up at them sadly, her bottom lip quivering. "I was trying to help."  
  
Michael turned her around, and they kept walking. "Hailey, what happ…oh…"  
  
"Oh shi-oot…" Sydney cried, luckily catching herself before having to explain why she had used that "naughty word" once again.  
  
The twins were standing next to the gate, drenched in some substance, which he was hoping was water. One look at the big, plastic cup lying accusingly on the ground nearby, however, and a quick whiff of the air named their mysterious liquid. Milk.  
  
"Hailey," Michael began, slowly this time, "What happened?"  
  
The little girl looked down at her still bare feet, her toes squirming, and miserably relayed the story, full of so much guilt and sorrow that there was no way they could even think about being angry. "Jonny wanted some milk. I wanted to show you that I'm a good helper for when the new baby comes."  
  
"I'm glad you want to help, sweetie," Michael said, tilting her chin up to look at him. "But next time, get me or Mommy to help you. The twins need the cups with the tops on them."  
  
"Okay, Daddy. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right," Michael answered, running a hand through her hair. "Now, go get your shoes on."  
  
She left and Sydney turned to face him. "Michael they are absolutely covered. And it's milk, too. They're going to need a bath, and we have to leave…" She quickly glanced at her watch. "… in three minutes."  
  
"You go ahead and take Hailey," Michael offered. "I'll stay here and clean up these two, and we'll meet you there. How's that sound?"  
  
She looked relieved that he had found a quick solution. "You don't mind cleaning them up?"  
  
"Of course not. Unless you'd rather…?" He gestured towards the mess and smiled, putting the offer out there, but fully intending to do it himself. He would have to work quickly to get the twins cleaned, dressed, and to the building that housed both their daycare and Hailey's preschool before the play started. Sydney didn't need to deal with the stress of that right now.  
  
"Thank you. You're a lifesaver." Her eyes flashed with desire, so quickly that he thought his own eyes had tricked him. "I'll pay you back later," she murmured.  
  
He grinned. "I was counting on it. I hope you're up to the challenge."  
  
"I'm ready!" Hailey chirped, suddenly appearing before them, as cheerful as ever.  
  
"Okay," Sydney answered, taking her hand. "Let's go, little girl. Daddy and William and Jonny are going to meet us there."  
  
"Bye, Daddy! Bye William! Bye Jonny!" Hailey bounced up and down with each name, waving excitedly, and ready to head out the door and to her fifteen minutes of fame.  
  
"Bye, angel." Michael bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Good luck." He leaned over and kissed Sydney softly. "Goodbye, gorgeous."  
  
They walked to the car and Sydney buckled Hailey into her seat. They had been on the road for only a minute, when Hailey began chattering. "Mommy, does the new baby know where we're going?"  
  
"I don't think so, sweetie," Sydney answered, smiling to herself. "The baby's sleeping inside my tummy, remember?"  
  
"Oh," the little girl answered, frowning. "It's not gonna see my play?"  
  
"Probably not, Hailey. But you can tell the baby all about it after it's born."  
  
"Okay," she agreed. And then, without missing a beat, "Is the new baby gonna have a penis like Daddy?"  
  
This time, Sydney couldn't help but laugh. "If it's a boy it will."  
  
"Like William and Jonny," Hailey stated matter-of-factly, proud that she could relay this information.  
  
"That's right." Sydney wondered what Michael would say if his daughter posed this question to him, and if William and Jonny would ask a similar one when they were older.  
  
"And if it's a girl, it won't have one?" Hailey asked, needing to be completely sure she understood every single aspect of this subject.  
  
"Nope," Sydney answered, wishing she could record this conversation to play back later, when her little girl wasn't so willing to have such open discussions with her mother.  
  
Satisfied with this answer, Hailey switched topics immediately, as if what she had to say next was the logical following of her previous question. "How come Daddy was so sad when you kissed him?"  
  
_Well_… "Because I didn't get a chance to give him his anniversary present." It was true no matter which way you looked at it, and a safe enough answer for a four-year-old.  
  
"Oh," Hailey answered thoughtfully. "I thinked it was 'cause maybe he didn't like the way you kissed him."  
  
"No, I think he liked it," Sydney answered distractedly. Even for the relatively short drive to the preschool, the traffic was unbearable. "I mean…"  
  
But Hailey interrupted her, saving her mother from trying to explain away her response. "When I go to Rory's house," she said, speaking of her best friend from preschool, "her parents don't kiss at all. And sometimes I'm even there for three or seven hours, and no kissing!" The little girl threw her arms up in the air, amazed that this was even possible.  
  
"Your Daddy and I love each other very much." It was the best answer she could give; the only one her daughter would truly understand, and the only one that really made any sense.  
  
"Does Rory's Daddy and Mommy not love each other?" Hailey asked, her forehead wrinkling with concern just as her father's had earlier.  
  
"I'm sure they do, sweetie," Sydney answered, not sure what else to add. "Maybe they just…"  
  
"Don't like to kiss?" Hailey finished for her.  
  
Well, if it would satisfy the little girl's curiosity, it was a good enough answer for now. "Maybe." They were stopped at a red light, and Sydney met her daughter's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Someday when you're older, Daddy and I will tell you a story about why we love each other so much. You're too little for it now."  
  
Hailey considered this, and didn't argue, still young enough to be satisfied with whatever her mother told her and not to question it much. The light changed to green, and Sydney turned her attention back to the road.  
  
"The story," Hailey began. "Is that why if you're not home yet and you're 'posed to be, Daddy gets scared and…"  
  
Screeching breaks. Metal screaming on metal, crunching, chewing, gnashing against it; playing out slowly, forever, reverberating in her ears. A sickening song, a never-ending symphony, not stopping, even for a second. Tires ripping across asphalt, burning rubber scorching her nostrils, the fumes seeming to creep straight down to her stomach, nauseating her.  
  
Hearing and smell were the only senses; the reek of exhaust and oil, her little girl's screams piercing her ears, worse than anything she had ever had to listen to, the most horrible form of torture imaginable. Sight virtually nonexistent; she still didn't know exactly what happened, never saw that car race down the street, barreling straight through the red light and into the intersection.  
  
But touch was quickly beginning to catch up, eager to have its way with her after being left out of the initial reaction, leaving her nerve ends tingling, shrieking with the excruciating pain. The motion of the car lurching her side to side, slamming her head against the glass of the window, shattering it to the ground. The sound of glass raining down adding to the cacophonous harmony.  
  
Metal, glass, shouting, tires, and tears; the main sections in the orchestra of misery and terror. Its jarring notes increasing to a fever pitch, drowning out everything except her throbbing body in a veritable swirl of pain and panic, before suddenly receding. The quick burst of light, the sudden metallic taste of blood, the ear-splitting noise, the sickening scents, the blinding pain, all washed away. Withering to silence, blackness, numbness. Nothing.


	8. The Mists of All That's Gone

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 8: The Mists of All That's Gone

~~~

Wow, you'd think you guys didn't like cliffhangers or something… Thanks: One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie, cheetahluke, Whitelighter Enchantress, Jaryn, Raina, Valoriahn, aliana, Kiki, Dream Writer 4 Life, and Karmen. All your reviews were great…

~~~  
  
Fireworks exploded before her eyelids, disturbing the darkness, whistling and screaming as they rose in the sky and exploding in a shower of sparks, like some kind of freak Fourth of July celebration. That was her one moment of tranquility. The colors transfixed her; the calming azures, the flaring emeralds and golds, finally giving away until there was nothing but a dark sticky crimson, blood red.  
  
Red raining over her, the sparks growing larger. Red filling her eyes until there was nothing else. Red blinding her, choking her, deafening her. Red crawling under her skin, leaving its trail wherever it went, a prickling path of pain and heat winding around her, making her writhe in agony. Its fiery fingers flying over her flesh, mercilessly moving everywhere, not missing an inch, stealing her breath in such a way that she might never get it back.  
  
Iron fists clamping around her lungs, her head, her stomach, threatening to squeeze the life out of her. She could feel it start to drain from her, the pain pulling it out of her head in feathery wisps, like enchanted webbing. Fiery ice descended upon her as the silvery threads of life left her, balled up by the hands of pain and gobbled greedily, barely touched by its teeth. A cold so icy it was painful, a feeling so cold that it burned white-hot, worse than a blazing flame.  
  
She almost gave into it. Almost let it eat her whole, take the last of her soul without thought or mercy, thinking that nothing could be worse. But something crept in through the pain, through the numbness of her brain, through the darkness, scooping her from nothing before she descended, bringing her life.  
  
One sound, so full of hope and love. One word, wavering with pain, but pulsating with something stronger than the heartbeat that kept her going. One question so full of trust that it severed the aching grip that held onto her. "M-Mommy?"  
  
That one word hurtled her back to reality. Her eyes snapped open, flinging her back into a world of sight and sound. Horns blaring, people yelling, the heat emanating from the car that had its hood still buried within the side of her vehicle.  
  
Hailey was sobbing, her eyes frantically searching the front of the car, waiting for some sign of life from her mother. Sydney wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, tried desperately to get the words out, but couldn't find them. They were lost among the confusion, dancing somewhere beyond her grasp.  
  
A painful and dizzy turn of the head rewarded her with a glance of her daughter. The little girl was petrified, as was to be expected, slightly scratched and clutching her already badly bruised arm. Sydney thanked whatever God had been watching over her that Hailey had been on the passenger's side of the car, knowing that her own side had taken the impact and that the pain that she was just keeping at bay would have been nothing compared to having to see her daughter experience the brunt of it herself.  
  
As bad as it had seemed at the time, and as insignificant now, if the little girl hadn't spilled the milk, if the entire family had been in the car, with little William in the car seat right behind her. Sydney refused to look in that direction, knowing that the extra car seat that was there would be smashed beyond recognition…  
  
The stench of gasoline invaded her nostrils and a sudden awareness of the heat that was shimmering off the pavement screamed to her: _Get out of the car!_ With shaking hands, she unbuckled her seatbelt, fighting back the tears, not wanting her daughter to be any more scared than she already was.  
  
She didn't even try her door, knowing already that any attempt to open it would be futile, that she couldn't afford any extra movement, barely able to stay focused on the task of getting Hailey and herself out of the car. Sparks flew out of the corner of her eyes, sparks that she knew weren't really there, but that still increased the overwhelming, animal-like fear within her, as she waited for the gas fumes to ignite.  
  
Slowly, she eased herself across the front seat, instinctively grabbing her cell phone and glancing as reassuringly as she could at Hailey, who had started to calm as soon as her mother moved. Sydney closed her eyes to the pain, feeling her way out of the front seat with fingers that refused to work, leaning heavily on the side of the car as she fumbled with the back door.  
  
Somehow, she got Hailey out of her car seat, never quite sure how she found the strength to lift her, thoughts of her daughter's well-being the only thing that kept her going. Without a word, Hailey took her mother's hand, wanting to be carried, but able to sense that Sydney had been strained enough and wouldn't be able to manage it.  
  
Sydney led her daughter to the sidewalk and sat down, not hearing the questions and kind words from pedestrians and other motorists, not noticing their concerned faces, not feeling their outstretched hands. She sat down and hugged Hailey fiercely, acutely aware and careful of her daughter's wounds, while trying as hard as she might to ignore the pain her own caused her.  
  
"Mommy," Hailey murmured, the uncontrollable sobs finally gone from her body, but a whisper of tears still in her voice. "I was so scared."  
  
Sydney kissed the little girl's sweet face all over, trying to keep her from seeing the side of her own face that was dripping with blood. _I love you, Hailey. I love you. _The words were in her mind, but refused to find their way to her lips. Blocked by the walls of pain and confusion, unable to make themselves heard.  
  
The wail of sirens approached them, screaming mournfully from the distance. Sydney dug into her purse, pulling out her phone and hitting the speed dial automatically. Hailey flung her good arm around her mother's neck, flinching and pulling back as the dark drops of Sydney's blood splattered onto her arm.  
  
It rung once.  
  
"Mommy, you're bleeding." Hailey was standing, and touched her fingers to her mother's forehead, bringing them away covered in shiny, crimson blood. Maybe the little girl hadn't noticed that she was bleeding as well. Perhaps the amount of blood oozing from her own skin seemed insignificant to that which was dripping down Sydney's face. But Sydney noticed; she saw every scarlet dot that marred her daughter's creamy, fragile skin.  
  
Twice.  
  
"You're gonna need a big Band-Aid," Hailey whispered, convinced that everything was going to be all right now that her mother seemed to be okay, but still hugging her bruised arm to her side. It had to be killing her, but she didn't seem to notice, shock and fear blocking out the pain.  
  
_You will too, darling. Bigger than you can imagine._  
  
Three times.  
  
She was beginning to get nervous. Her stomach clenched into a tight ball that refused to be unwound, weaving ever tighter until she almost couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Finally, it clicked and he answered, his voice strong and reassuring. "Hello?"  
  
A gulp of breath, as if it would be the last she ever took. She fought as hard as she could, harder than she ever had before to get that one word out. What she uttered barely enough to be heard, contradicting the screaming she felt inside, the amount of effort it had taken to squeeze the name out of her swollen throat and onto her lips. "V-Vaughn…"  
  
She never heard his reply. The knot that had been forming in her stomach suddenly unwound, unleashing a sharp, fiery pain, worse even, than that she had felt just moments before. She doubled over, gasping and clutching at her stomach.  
  
"Mommy?!"  
  
The phone dropped to the ground. And suddenly it hit her, the fact that she had not one child to watch out for at that moment, but two.  
  
If the sharp ache within her had possessed a voice, it would have been cackling without mercy, its deep laughter nauseating and nearing a howl, ever increasing in pitch until it was on the verge of shattering all the nearby glass. She could hear it. The hideous laughter that began deep inside as the pain took over, lulling her into unconsciousness with its fiery hand, singing her a deadly lullaby. It had won.  
  
Mist swirled around her, creeping ever closer. Slowly, everything about her was immersed in this fog, blurring and finally disappearing. The edges would leave first, a face would blur, fine details were lost, colors washed together before being overtaken by a dull, sickening gray. And the mist was upon her, brushing her with its cold, cloudy fingertips, dulling her senses, stealing her breath. Everything was gone again, rushing out of her at dizzying speed, and no matter how much she struggled, it would not return.  
  
Hailey watched her mother slump over; the mother that had banished all monsters from under her bed, the mother that was at her side in a moment as soon as she head her tears, the mother who shushed her nightmares away, sleeping beside her to keep them at bay. She had thought this woman was invincible, and seeing her suddenly frail form on the ground beside her frightened away any pain she felt, any fear from the car accident itself.  
  
She shook her mother's shoulder, gently at first and then more fiercely, a jumble of words finding their way past the tears that were choking her, but refused to be cried. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'll never be bad again… Please, Mommy. I promise. Just wake up…" But not even her daughter's frantic words could wake Sydney from this sleep. Pain's eerie lullaby had lulled her into an unconsciousness too deep for words to penetrate.  
  
Strong hands pulled her gently back. Hailey struggled against them, not sure what was going on, but they held her fast. She watched as two men picked her mother up off the ground, lifting her onto a little bed with wheels that she had only seen in movies. Her ears caught some phrases that scared her, and some words that she didn't understand.  
  
"That looks like one hell of an accident."  
  
"Where's all the blood coming from?"  
  
"…units of O-Neg."  
  
"… be internal hemorrhaging?"  
  
"Let's move her to…"  
  
The hands were lifted off her shoulders and she tried to run after her mother, but a young woman appeared, kneeling down in front of her to prevent her escape, a gentle hand was on her arm. A quick glance at the lady showed her pretty face and kind eyes, and before she turned her eyes back to her mother, she noticed that the woman was wearing the same clothes that the two men had on.  
  
"Hi there," the woman said softly, but Hailey did not turn her head to face her. "I'm Carol. What's your name?"  
  
"I'm not 'posed to talk to strangers," Hailey whispered, eyes still glued on her mother's retreating form. The little girl suddenly moved her bruised arm behind her back, for some reason wanting to hide it from the world, not wanting anyone to know that she was hurt.  
  
"I'm going to help you," Carol replied reassuringly. She had seen the dark, ugly bruises on the little girl's arm before she had hid it, and knew that it was probably causing her great pain. But although the child had been crying before, she was strong, and didn't shed any tears now. "Does your arm hurt?"  
  
Hailey nodded distractedly, trying to move her arm further behind her and back away, her footsteps stumbling, her progress halted by the hand that still held her arm. She was reluctant to trust this woman, knowing somehow that she could, but not wanting to, wishing she and all the other people were gone, that it was just her and her mother back in the car. Together. Happy. Safe.  
  
"Can I look at it?"  
  
Hailey didn't answer this question. Instead, turning her deep green eyes on Carol and asking, "Where are they taking my mommy?"  
  
"To the hospital. We're going to take you there, too."  
  
Hospital. That's where they took people who were really, really hurt. Or really sick like that man she had seen on TV. He hadn't looked sick when he went there, he was just moaning a lot. But then had turned green and grew scales and screamed. Hailey had hidden her eyes; her daddy had walked in and turned off the TV. He had hugged her tightly and told her it wasn't real.  
  
"What're they gonna do to her?"  
  
Her mother had gone to the hospital to have the twins. She had been little, but she remembered bits and pieces. Her father had held her hand, leading her down the clean, white halls that smelled like their house did when her mommy was cleaning. There had been a guy in the hallway sitting in a wheelchair, talking to himself and drooling on his bib. He had tried to grab her, but her daddy had kept her safe. But her father was not going to take her there this time.  
  
"Try to make her better."  
  
Her mommy had smiled at her when they had walked in the room. She looked tired. Hailey had wanted to hug her so tight, but her mother said that it hurt her. It never hurt her mommy when she hugged her at home, only there.   
  
"What if they can't?"  
  
Mommy had been okay when they took her home. And then she had William and Jonny to play with. But what about the man in the wheelchair? She had never seen anyone like him outside of the hospital building. She had never seen a grown man who needed a bib. No one had ever tried to grab her.  
  
"They're going to try their best."  
  
Daddy had promised to try his best to build her a swing on the tree in the backyard. He said he had never really built anything before. But he did it, and it was the best swing in the world, even better than the ones at the playground. And Daddy pushed her so high on it; it was like she was going to fly to the stars.  
  
"Is Daddy gonna be there?"  
  
That would make it all better. Her daddy always took care of her. He had saved her from the scary man that tried to take her. He had told her that the man really wasn't scary at all. He had just wanted to hug her.  
  
"We'll call him, honey, and he'll probably meet us there."   
  
Hailey nodded, a single tear making its way to the tip of her nose and dripping onto the ground. She quickly wiped away its glistening path. She sniffled, but didn't want to cry anymore. She could still see her mother, and Carol said that they were going to take good care of her. They were going to try their best.  
  
One of the two men made his way over to them. "No ID on the woman," he said to Carol. "Purse is inside the car, but the Chief of Police has roped the area off. Gas is draining out of one of the vehicles." He looked toward Hailey and Carol nodded, following his lead, not needing any further words from him to know what was needed.  
  
"Honey, what's your mommy's name?" Hailey didn't answer, and Carol wasn't sure if she had understood. This girl was so tiny; she didn't look more than three or four years old, and some children knew no other name for their parents than what they themselves called them. So, she tried a different tactic. "What does your daddy call her?"  
  
Hailey was silent for so long that the two paramedics didn't think she was going to answer. "Gorgeous," she finally murmured, and Carol couldn't help but smile. "Or Syd most of the times. Her real name is Sydney Vaughn."  
  
The man nodded his thanks and left. Carol decided to try this approach to find out the child's name, as well. "What does your daddy call you?"  
  
But the girl seemed to catch on to this game and tired of it. "My name's Hailey," she answered quietly. "Is my mommy going to be okay?"  
  
"We're going to try the best we can," Carol promised, wishing she could guarantee that this little girl's mother was indeed going to be just fine, but not wanting to give her false hope.  
  
Hailey seemed to accept this, used to her mother and father promising their best and delivering without fail. The child lived in a secure, fragile world of fantasies and make-believe. In the magical kingdom in which she reigned, she had never known anything to go wrong. This was her first real brush with reality, and although the walls of her castle had been shaken, they still stood tall. The princes and princesses, elves and fairies, dragons and brave knights stayed their ground; Hailey refused to give them up that easily.  
  
She slowly and carefully took her arm out from behind her, holding it out to Carol without a word as to the pain the deep bruises were causing her. "We were going to my play."  
  
"You and your mom?" Carol asked as she examined Hailey's arm, trying to keep conversation going. "What were you…?"  
  
"Not just us," the little girl interrupted. "Daddy and William and Jonny were gonna meet us there. And the new baby was coming, too. But Mommy telled me it couldn't see 'cause it was sleeping in her tummy."  
  
"Okay," Carol murmured. And if Hailey had been old enough to notice small changes in behavior such as these, she would have felt the woman stiffen and known that her smile was pasted on. "Just hold on a sec, Hailey." She turned to the ambulance they had loaded Sydney in, calling out just as they were closing the doors, "Luke!"  
  
The ambulance doors swiftly reopened and the man that had approached them earlier jumped out and ran towards them. His eyes were questioning; he knew he didn't need to tell her that they had to hurry, didn't need to ask what she had called him over for.  
  
Carol stood up, lowering her voice so that Hailey couldn't hear her. "She was… is…" She fumbled out, nodding towards the ambulance where Sydney lay.  
  
"Yeah," Luke answered, placing a hand on her shoulder. There seemed to be some sort of spoken agreement between the two, some type of connection, whether it be family, friendship, or love. His eyes told her he understood. His had caressed her shoulder for a split second, almost too quick to be noticeable, before he turned and ran back towards the ambulance. Almost before he had shut the doors, they were on their way, sirens blaring.  
  
"I'm not going with Mommy?" Hailey asked, her voice wavering and her lower lip trembling. She was trying desperately not to cry, but the frustration, pain, and confusion were almost too much for her to bear.  
  
"You'll get to see her later, honey," Carol reassured her. "We're going to go in that ambulance." She pointed to the one still parked nearby and took the little girl's hand.  
  
With her mother gone, Hailey felt suddenly cold and alone. She shivered as she glanced quickly around her, searching for something familiar, something, anything that she knew. The faces surrounding her were strange and frightening. The car was no longer what she had remembered, in its mangled condition and surrounded by caution tape and swarming police officers.  
  
"It was their anniversary," Hailey stated quietly, struggling to keep hold of herself, not wanting to show weakness, not wanting to cry. "Mommy never got to give Daddy his present."  
  
She glanced up at Carol, but the woman was silent. The accidents were one thing; the maimed or mangled bodies, the pools and fountains of blood. But the stories behind them, the people that lived them… Seeing the pain these accidents and injuries caused, not just physically, but emotionally, was the worst part. The accidents without stories were the easiest to bear: bring the victim to the hospital and be done with it, no time to talk or wonder. Those that had them, that relayed them to her… She often wondered why she chose this line of work, vowing to find something better before she closed her eyes at night. But she always returned to it the next day, drawn to it, unable to stay away.  
  
Hailey was at the edge of the precipice. One more step would pull her over, would bring her to tears. The little girl had inherited her mother's strength, but there were times that not even Sydney could hold in her sobs. "Is the new baby going to be okay?" she managed to murmur.  
  
Carol couldn't outright lie to the little girl. She had already glossed over the truth about her mother, not really knowing how severe her injuries were, but this she was sure of. Hailey would have to hear the truth sooner or later, but the paramedic couldn't find it in herself to break it to her now. That would have to be someone else's job. "I don't know, honey," Carol answered, leading her slowly to the ambulance. It was the truth; she didn't. And that would have to be good enough for now.  
  
But Hailey suddenly stopped, the tears too much for her, finally winning their battle and spilling over. "I… I want my Mommy and Daddy," she whispered, eyes wide. "I want to go home."  
  
There were no words for this, nothing to make it right. Carol picked up the little girl and held her tightly, carefully, well aware of her bruised and most likely broken arm. Hailey buried her head in the woman's shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably, for her mother and father, the new baby, the car accident, the spilt milk, everything that scared her and she didn't understand, and the pain she finally allowed herself to feel, that she had barely noticed before.  
  
She cried until she ran out of tears, chest still heaving even after her eyes were dry. She wanted this to all be a dream, a nightmare; something she could wake up from. She wanted somebody to turn off the TV and hug her tightly, telling her it wasn't real.


	9. Tender is the Plight

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 9: Tender is the Plight

~~~

Sorry for all the sadness, but (as I think someone mentioned), it _is_ going to get a little worse before it gets better (but it _will get better). In this chap, there's a reference to one of my previous stories, but all you basically need to know is that Syd was smacked over the head with a glass vase. Let me know if there's anything else that confuses you… Well, I hope you're still enjoying this even if it is depressing. Thanks for all the kind reviews._

~~~  
  
  
William had been in and out of the tub in seconds, not putting up any sort of fight, not uttering a single word. Jonny was a little more difficult. He began splashing the moment he got in the tub, giggling and singing gleefully; the tune sounding suspiciously like on of those annoying commercial jingles Michael had heard earlier that week. The older twin would be content to stay in the tub for hours, even after the water became cold letting his tiny but wild imagination take him anywhere.  
  
When Michael had William out of the bath and tried to get his brother, things became messy. William sat quietly in a corner of the bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel, calmly surveying the scene as his twin scooted out of his father's reach like a slippery little fish. After a few moments of this, Jonny finally conceded to getting out of the water, launching himself at Michael's chest and holding onto his neck for dear life.  
  
Michael sighed. So now, he had to get both little boys dressed and change out of his dripping shirt. The two boys could be a handful, but he wouldn't change any of it, even the fact that he was now sopping wet.  
  
He led the boys out of the bathroom and down the hall. William was dressed and ready in seconds, a little cherub in his blue corduroy overalls and a shirt adorned with colorful dinosaurs. Jonny, of course, had to put up a fight, but Michael succeeded in dressing him as well, his overalls red and his shirt covered with dogs.  
  
He brought them into his room so he could quickly change his own clothes. Just as he pulled off his shirt, the phone rang. He picked it up immediately, thinking that it could be Sydney worrying about his ability to get there in time or warning him of traffic and advising him to take a different route.  
  
"Hello?" Silence greeted him, and he tried again. "Hello?"  
  
There was a click and an overly exuberant voice boomed over the phone line. "Hi, my name is Ethan, and I'm calling on behalf of the Western United Fund. Are you over eighteen years of age and a permanent resident of this household?"  
  
"No, I'm sorry," Michael answered quickly. Damn telemarketers. He didn't have time for this.  
  
"Well, can I please speak to…?"  
  
"They're not available," Michael interrupted. God. Either Ethan had just been laid some time in the last twelve hours, or he was on speed. But Michael didn't really care to find which was correct. "And I don't know when they will be. Sorry. Bye."  
  
He hung up, feeling a twinge of guilt for being so rude; the man was just doing his job. But his boys were starting to get into the closet, flinging Sydney's shoes everywhere, or at least one of them was. And they needed to go if they were going to get to Hailey's play on time. Sydney would not be pleased if they were late, and although she had already promised to give him his "present" later, he knew that keeping her happy would make the night all the more enjoyable for the both of them.  
  
Michael threw on his shirt, picked up the twins and started for the door. He was about to close it when the phone rang again. He considered picking it up, but decided to leave it. If it was really that important, they'd leave a message; if it was a telemarketer, he'd just saved himself two minutes.  
  
He locked the door and it was just about to click shut, when he felt a small hand press against his face. It was William, who was still in his arms, content to remain still and be carried to the car. Jonny had wriggled out of his grasp halfway across the room and was already out the front door.  
  
William gazed at his father with his deep, thoughtful eyes. "Daddy, phone," he said simply.  
  
And maybe it was because he was willing to do anything his youngest son wished just to hear him talk, maybe because he thought that it might actually be important, or maybe he just didn't want to have to deal with the telemarketer later. Not knowing exactly why, Michael threw the door open, tugged Jonny inside, and picked up the telephone right after the third ring. "Hello?"  
  
There was a pause on the other end of the line, just as there had been with the telemarketer earlier, and he almost hung up. But this pause was different. It was not the controlled, humming, near silence. There were shouts and car horns. Someone taking a shaky breath, and, "V-Vaughn…"  
  
The color drained from his face, replaced with a clammy, prickling coldness. "Syd?! What's the…?" But even as he talked, he was listening acutely to everything that was happening on her end of the phone. He heard her gasp for air, as if she couldn't get enough of it, as if a terrible pain had grabbed hold of her, shaking her, refusing to let her go. "Syd!"  
  
But she never answered him. Instead, a little voice took her place, muffled because of the distance from the phone, but still overflowing with fear and confusion, "Mommy?!"  
  
"Hailey! Hailey, sweetie, pick up the…"  
  
Something crashed and the line went dead. His wife and his daughter… No, his wife, his daughter, and his fourth child, their little baby… He had thought that they were safe, and he had been wrong. Completely, utterly, fatally wrong. They were not safe. Never would be. There was nothing he could have done to protect them against this, against every other danger that presented itself in life. As the father and husband he was supposed to be a superhero; instead, he was helpless.  
  
He quickly dialed Sydney's cell number, praying that Hailey would know how to answer the phone, would not be too frightened; wishing that his beautiful Sydney would pick it up, chastising him for being late to the play, that this would all have been a dream, a nightmare.  
  
The phone rang a few times, and his blood ran cold. It felt like ice dripping within him running through him, slowly numbing him, freezing him. Finally, the line clicked. _Thank God…_  
  
"Syd?!"  
  
"The cellular customer you are calling is not available at this time. Please hang up and try your…"  
  
He didn't wait for the end of the message, never heard the rest of what the calm, metallic recording had to say. The phone slipped from his fingers, crashing to the ground. William gazed at him sadly, as if he sensed what was going on. If Michael had been thinking at all clearly, he might have stopped to consider what powers of clairvoyance this little boy possessed, and thanked him for speaking up, for getting him to answer the phone. But as it was, he barely remembered to scoop up Jonny and buckle both of his sons into the car before speeding out of the driveway.  
  
Fear was swarming around him in black and yellow, whirring past his eyes. He could hear it buzzing, feel the air stirring, the brush of its wings. It was beginning to sting him; short, sharp pain, itching and burning. And no matter what he tried, he couldn't wave it away.  
  
He found himself in his mother's driveway, almost not remembering why he was there. But Jonny must have wanted to help as his brother had earlier, and began singing, "Grandma's house! Grandma's house!" just before his father drove out of the driveway. Michael deposited his sons on his mother's doorstep as she frantically asked him what was wrong, not providing much more of an answer other than he had to go, and hurrying away.  
  
Michael followed the route he knew that Sydney would have taken to the preschool, the same one he should be taking himself with the twins still in the backseat and his thoughts on nothing more than Hailey's play and how gorgeous his wife was. It wasn't supposed to be like this. If only he had made her stay home with the twins…  
  
He searched for any sign of Sydney, Hailey, or their car, earning a few choice words and gestures from other drivers and lucky that there were not any police in sight. Traffic slowed, and he barely had time to register the break lights in front of him. His car screamed to a halt, inches away from another vehicle. He wanted to lay on the horn, to curse the light for taking so long and the other drivers for getting in his way.  
  
He sat in traffic for what seemed an interminable amount of time. He never knew how long it actually was; maybe five minutes, maybe fifteen or thirty, maybe three. His thoughts were racing, his body seeming to drive the car without him. Then he saw it. The flashing lights in the intersection ahead, barely visible at this distance. And he knew.  
  
Running, faster than he ever had. Not thinking to turn off the car or shut the door. Ignoring the confused looks and angry shouts. His feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, would never be able to carry him far enough; each step agony, but the weight of his feet pressing down on the earth nothing compared to the weight on his chest.  
  
He saw it. Her car. He tried to tell himself it wasn't; it barely looked like a car anymore. But there was her license plate number, there were the three car seats in the back. Someone was yelling to him, but he couldn't hear it, wouldn't have understood it even if he could. All normal, human function of his brain seemed to have turned off. Only the emotions were left: the crawling fear, the dripping sadness, the burning anger. All coursing through him at lightning speed, threatening to take over his body, to bring it to action where mind and reason could not.  
  
"… going to have to move. Sir? Sir, you can't be here." Slowly the voice came back into focus, became something decipherable, something more than the waves of heat shimmering off the pavement. Shouting and horns blaring and distant traffic untangled themselves from the buzzing mixture they had become.  
  
Michael circled slowly around, surveying the scene, trying to comprehend what was around him, for this wasn't just a dream. His wife, his daughter… They had been in that car, and now… His gaze wandered to the sidewalk. He saw Sydney's phone and the stain on the cement. Blood red. The same color that prickled his skin and curdled the blood in his veins. Red, relentless and raging. He hated red.  
  
"Sir?" A hand was on his shoulder, trying to lead him away. He refused to move, the weight of his feet too much, the pressure on his soul even more.  
  
Michael stared at the police officer that had a firm grip on his arm. "What happened?" he asked quietly, finding his voice.  
  
The officer glanced at him kindly but disbelievingly. "There was an accident, buddy. What did you think it was? Now, you really have to…"  
  
"Where is my wife? Where's our daughter?" _Where's our unborn child… the love of my life, the one person I had to and can no longer live without… the happiness we had possessed in abundance just moments before?_  
  
"Oh…" The police officer's eyes and tone softened as he suddenly understood. "Mr.… Mr.…?"  
  
"Vaughn." _V-Vaughn..._ She had called him Vaughn. Over the years, he had heard it in anger, he had heard it in frustration, he had heard it in her dreams. But he had not heard her speak that name in that tone of voice in years. Had never thought he'd hear it again, wished he could have lived his entire life without having to.  
  
"A woman and a young girl… Cedars-Sinai… I'm sorry…"  
  
Those were the only words he caught. The only ones he needed. His feet moved on their own, leading him back to the car, pressing the gas pedal, his arms turning the steering wheel, finding the detour around the intersection and parking him in front of the hospital.  
  
He burst in the door and up to the desk, the words springing quickly to his lips, without thought. "Please. My wife and daughter were in a car accident and were taken here. I need to see them."  
  
The woman at the desk smiled at him sympathetically and spoke slowly. "Just a moment, sir. We'll find you a translator and…"  
  
"No. Please," he begged, in English this time, cursing the fact that at this moment, the French had sprung unbidden to his lips. "My wife and daughter. They… they were just brought in. Sydney and Hailey Vaughn."  
  
She nodded, pushing her thick glasses up her nose and typing furiously. "Your daughter's been taken to pediatrics, and your wife… is still in the ER, I think."  
  
He had thought that once he had made it to them, once he could see them, everything would be all right. But now he was torn. No matter how much he wished it, he could not be in two places at once. Four years ago, he would have run straight to Sydney, no questions asked; but things were different now.  
  
"Which way to pediatrics?" he asked quietly. The woman pointed out the direction and he found his way to the correct room.  
  
"Daddy!" Hailey cried, jumping down from the examination table and running to him; the nurse at her side didn't move to stop or help her. The little girl's was in a tiny splint, and just as her mother had noticed earlier, her father could not help but see every tiny bruise and scratch that ran over her skin.  
  
Michael scooped her up, close to tears but refusing to let them fall. "Hailey," he managed, through the lump in his throat, kissing her all over, wanting to reach each and every little hurt as he had done to her mother countless times before. "My little girl. Are you okay?"  
  
"It was scary," Hailey confirmed, burying her head in his shoulder and sighing, glad to finally have someone familiar with her. "The car crashed and it's all broken."  
  
"But you're all right, and that's all that matters." He said it to comfort her, but he knew that wasn't all that mattered.  
  
Hailey must have agreed with his thoughts. She never spoke a word about how her new dress was ruined, or she had missed her play. She knew what really mattered. "Mommy was bleeding a lot. And she falled asleep and wouldn't wake up." The little girls eyes were wide with the memory. "Is she okay, Daddy?"  
  
"I don't know, angel," Michael answered honestly. It wasn't the time for white lies, even if they would momentarily better the situation. "I came to see you, first."  
  
"Then who's seeing Mommy? She's all by herself. She'll be scared when she wakes up."  
  
"I'm sure the doctors and nurses are taking good care of her," Michael answered, wishing he could believe his own words. He was beginning to become frantic with not knowing exactly what had happened to his wife, with having to rely on the broken bits of the story that his daughter could offer him. He needed to see her more than anything, but he had to comfort his little girl first. "I'll go see her in a couple minutes."  
  
"Then who'll stay with me?" Hailey asked, frightened at the thought of being left alone again.  
  
"Maybe you can come with me," Michael answered, glancing at the nurse for confirmation.  
  
"Her arm's broken," the nurse answered impatiently, his tone tired and unconcerned. "We're waiting for the doctor to come back so we can put a cast on her. It might take awhile. Can't say how long."  
  
"The doctor said that I can get a pink one," Hailey added solemnly. "And it will make my arm all better."  
  
"That's good, angel," Michael responded, not knowing where he found the strength to smile. "But it looks like you're going to have to wait awhile to see your mommy. Can you stay here with nice Nurse…?"  
  
"Salvatore," the nurse mumbled, glancing up from the chart he had been flipping through. "Edward Salvatore. The kid can call me Ed."  
  
Hailey's lower lip trembled. "He's not so nice, Daddy," she whispered. A grunt from Ed's direction told Michael that the male nurse had heard this, but Michael didn't really care. "He said he doesn't work with the kids everyday, and I'm the last one afore he goes home." Her whisper became even tinier and more worried. "His eyes are mean. Don't leave me alone with him, Daddy. Please?"  
  
She looked close to tears, and Michael couldn't stand to have to see them fall. She had been through more than any four-year-old should have to, and he couldn't leave her alone again, not if this nurse was really as unkind as he appeared.  
  
He kissed her temple tenderly, sure that she must be able to feel him shaking with frustration and anxiety. "Okay, sweetie. We'll go see your mother in a little while." He could call Jack or someone else, but he really didn't want to have to try to explain what had happened just yet, didn't think he would be capable of doing it until he saw for himself that Sydney was safe.  
  
"I'll stay with her if you want to go now," a voice responded from behind him.  
  
"You came back!" Hailey called, already seeing the owner of the voice from over her father's shoulder. Michael whirled around and found himself face to face with a young woman. As far as he could see, her eyes weren't "mean" and he was hoping Hailey agreed.  
  
"I told you I would, honey," the woman answered, and then said to Michael, "I'm Carol Ross, one of the paramedics that brought Hailey in. My shift just finished, and she was so scared when we brought her here that I promised I'd come back to make sure you got here."  
  
"Thanks," Michael answered. "For taking such good care of her. I'm Michael Vaughn."  
  
Carol nodded, giving him a kind smile. "Hailey's told me all about you."  
  
On any other day, on any ordinary day, Michael would have wondered exactly what that statement entailed, for whatever Hailey had to say was sure to include some stories that he wouldn't want relayed to others. But he didn't even have considered that now, wouldn't have cared even if he had.  
  
"Carol telled me to think of something happy when my arm hurted. And I telled her about you and Mommy and William and Jonny and Donovan. And I teached her about French." At least the little girl seemed relaxed around this woman, and he only had to wonder for a few more seconds whether or not his daughter would accept her as suitable company.  
  
Carol held her arms out to Hailey. "You want to come to me now, honey, and let your daddy go see your mom?" Michael held his breath, not wanting to push the little girl either way.  
  
But Hailey agreed, passing easily into the woman's arms. She seemed a little sad that her father was going to leave her, but was content to stay with the paramedic for the time being.  
  
"I'll be back in a little while, angel," Michael murmured, giving Hailey a kiss and turning gratefully to Carol. "Thank you."  
  
She didn't smile as she answered him this time, her voice hushed, her eyes serious. "Good luck."  
  
  
A quick trip back to the main desk informed Michael that Sydney had been moved out of the ER. She had a bed upstairs, but at least it wasn't in the Intensive Care Unit. He thanked God for that as he made her way to her.  
  
A doctor was just walking out of her room, glancing down at the chart she held in her hands and nearly bumping into him. "Is she…?" he asked, not able to think of a proper ending to this question. What was he supposed to ask? Okay didn't seem like the right word anymore.  
  
The doctor glanced up, quickly apologizing for almost running into him. "Are you the husband?" she asked. He nodded in reply and she led him down the hall a little ways. "I'm Melina Quinn," she began, rearranging her clipboard and pens to offer him her hand. "Your wife sustained a head injury that might not have been too serious, but had hit a relatively tender area. She's had a similar head injury before?"  
  
Suddenly, Michael was back in that hotel room in Cairo on their last mission. The last one before SD-6 had been taken down, the last one before they had been married, the last one they had gone on. Ever.  
  
He could hear the ear-splitting crack, the crashing of glass, her small gasp of pain that had nearly broken his heart, and the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor. There was that voice, the one he had later extinguished forever with a single bullet to the chest.  
  
"Mr. Vaughn?"  
  
The doctor's voice snapped him back to the present. He was here, in LA, in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, not that hotel or the hospital in Cairo. "Yes. A little over seven years ago."  
  
"Well, this new injury should heal as the old one had. Although I was just reading her chart and those headaches she had been getting may become more frequent for awhile. Your wife will be fine, Mr. Vaughn, but I'm afraid…"  
  
Those words triggered it. And he suddenly remembered. How could he have forgotten? He had seen his daughter, and she had been fine; and he had just now learned that his beloved wife was going to be okay. But what about the other passenger in the car? The completely helpless, the completely trusting child, who had not yet had a chance to live…  
  
"… the child she was carrying was lost. I'm very sorry."  
  
He could tell from her eyes that she meant those words, but that still didn't make the truth any easier to grasp. Their fourth child might not have been planned, but they had already started loving their new baby, had already begun planning their life with four children instead of three. Michael thanked her quietly, and she said something about wanting to keep Sydney awhile for observation and hurried away.  
  
He made his way to Sydney's room, pausing outside the door. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her, stars whizzed out of the corner of his eyes and he had to grab the doorframe to keep from falling over. His wife still lived and breathed, and at that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was standing by the window, leaning heavily on the sill with one hand and clutching the pole that held her IV with the other. Her back was to him, her clothes long gone, replaced by a hospital gown, her bare feet on the cold tile floor.  
  
"Syd?" It was barely more than a whisper. She didn't move, probably hadn't heard him; he knew she shouldn't be out of bed, but didn't want those to be his first words to her. He tried again, louder this time, able to hold back the tears of relief and let his voice through, "Syd?"  
  
She didn't turn to face him, but he knew that this time she had heard him. He took a few tentative steps into the room. "I'm so sorry, Syd." He didn't know what else to say, couldn't help but think that this was somehow his fault. If he hadn't distracted her, if they had been able to leave a split second sooner…  
  
Sydney still didn't turn around, never acknowledging his presence or his words. He didn't know if she blamed him as much as he blamed herself, didn't know, even, if she could actually hear him. He had thought that he was able to sense that she had heard his words, but perhaps, for the first time in his life, he had been wrong about that.  
  
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, murmuring, "Syd? Baby?"  
  
She finally moved, shaking off his hand. But it had been his words and not his touch that had gotten to her. "Don't call me that," she whispered. She had regained consciousness almost as soon as the ambulance began on its way to the hospital, but these were the first words she had spoken since waking up. "Hailey…" she mumbled, and he knew it was a question.  
  
"She broke her arm and she's scared, but she's going to be fine. She made friends with one of the paramedics, and she came back to stay with her."  
  
He was beside her now and could finally see her face. The good half, he thought to himself, the half that looked untouched, that looked just like his Sydney. Only suddenly not at all. Although her features were flawless, not revealing any signs of an accident, the sparkle, the laughter, the life was lost from her eye.  
  
He turned her gently, and the horror of what had happened hit home. Her face was a mess of bruises. It looked as if there had been a war in a paint store and Sydney had been caught in the crossfire between the reds and blues. More hues of those two colors, and the purple that their mixture made, were evident in her skin than he had even known to exist. And he knew that if he stripped the hospital gown from her suddenly frail body, he would find even more colors lining its entire length.  
  
Michael wanted to cry, but didn't. Instead, he lifted Sydney up, waiting for her protest, wanting her to tell him that she could walk. But she didn't say a word as he carried her to the bed, and perhaps that's what hurt most of all. Only when she was nearing unconsciousness and when he was carrying her across the threshold, had his wife ever allowed him to pick her up; but this time, she simply gave in to him.  
  
"I love you," he murmured, laying her gently on the bed. "You're beautiful." And she didn't protest that either, even though maybe an hour before, she had good-naturedly argued with him over her appearance.  
  
He kissed her lips and for the first time in over seven years, she didn't kiss him back. "Michael," she whispered after a moment, pausing as a tear found its way down her cheek, wincing at the pain the salt within it caused her as it ran over her wounds. He gently brushed it away, waiting for her to continue. "There's no enemy."  
  
Her words may have seemed strange, but he knew what she meant. For years she had fought against the enemy, knew exactly who the bad guys were, could practically tell just by looking at them. She had only had to look after herself, and he knew that most of the time, she hadn't cared whether she came back or not.  
  
It had been different this time. She had not only herself, but Hailey and their unborn child. Something wrong had happened and there was no one to go after, no way to make it right, no way it could have been prevented. This could have happened to anyone, anybody else, anybody at all. But it hadn't. It had happened to them.  
  
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but she flinched at the slight pressure of his fingers running down her cheek. He wasn't sure if his touch had actually caused her physical pain, or if she just couldn't stand to feel it at the moment.  
  
She closed her eyes to fight back the tears. But she didn't cry; that single tear was the only one he would see her shed for quite awhile. She looked so young and helpless before him. And although he had no way of knowing, for the first time ever, mother reflected daughter in words and expression, instead of the other way around.  
  
"I want to go home."


	10. The Beautiful and Damned

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 10: The Beautiful and Damned

~~~

I swear that it will get better in the end. We just have to get there first… Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Please keep them up. They're great to come home to after babysitting all day, especially when one of the kids thinks that because you don't live in the house, or on the street, or own the bike or the TV or the PlayStation, that he doesn't have to listen to a word you say, but anyway… Enjoy!

~~~  
  
  
For the first time since she had met him, since she had grown to trust and love him, she lied. It wasn't so much a lie as a deception, a hiding of the truth. But it felt like a lie to her. They had been completely open about absolutely everything since they had become intimate so long ago, and knew everything about each other. Sydney could probably say that she had the only husband who not only knew what tampons were, but exactly what kind to get if she ever needed him to get them for her.  
  
She didn't tell him how much pain she was in, wouldn't show it. There are some things a person never forgets, and how to not betray what she really felt was something that would stick with Sydney forever. Michael had tried so hard to rid her of that, and given a few more years of complete bliss, probably would have succeeded. But this accident had sent her crashing back to that time before. The time of darkness, where there was nothing to live for, no purpose to life. When it was so bad that she needed someone, something to cling to, to keep her from spiraling downward.  
  
To Michael, it looked like she was in a lot better shape than she felt. For once, it was the emotional ache that fell through her strong façade first, not the physical pain. Countless times before, she had let him nurse her through morning sickness, headaches, even simple colds. This time, she didn't want him to know that she hurt. Didn't want him to know that she had been taken to this room not ten minutes before, and the doctor would have killed her if she had known that her patient had been sitting up, let alone out of bed. Didn't want him to know that she had to fight back the tears to move and take the few steps to the window. Didn't want him to know that it hurt to breathe, would have felt better if the slow, shallow breaths she was allowing herself now would cease altogether.  
  
She didn't want to stay here any longer, could feel the ghosts of her past swirling around her, wailing and howling. Before this, the twins' birth had probably been the only time she had ever been in a hospital without an alias, a convenient lie, and some sort of wound or malady inflicted by the enemy, someone she could go after later, someone she could kill. And that had been a time of happiness; this was altogether different.  
  
"You have to stay here for a little while," Michael murmured, finally responding to her earlier statement. He sighed, taking a deep breath before saying her name. "Syd?"  
  
She knew what he wanted, and she didn't want to talk. "I'm tired," she whispered, closing her eyes. She didn't see him nod, swallowing with difficulty, trying to hold back the tears. He took her hand and kissed it. She didn't move.  
  
Michael watched his wife sleep, or at least he thought he did. Sleep did not find her, although she had closed her eyes. The sandman who had so viciously beaten her with boulders a while ago was nowhere to be found with his soft, glimmering sand. But she hadn't really wanted to sleep, only using it as an excuse to shut herself off from the world. It seemed a perfect solution; if she appeared asleep, no one would bother her, but if she wasn't really, she couldn't be haunted by dreams.  
  
She hadn't accounted for daydreams, however. And it wasn't long before her mind spun out of control, replaying the assault on her senses that had occurred earlier, her daughter's screams echoing in her ears. Although a small corner in the back of her mind, the one space left that still had some light to it, that hadn't been completely clouded by tragedy, knew that Michael was standing right there, holding her hand, she refused to tighten her grip. She didn't want to feel anything, even his arms around her.  
  
As it had been before, time became something that didn't matter; a piece of taffy that was stretched and pulled, then folded back together again, always the same amount of sticky sweetness but seeming at once to be so much and so little. He forgot completely that he had told his daughter he would be back to get her, couldn't think of anything but the woman before him, what she had been and was now, searching her for any glimmer of hope and life.  
  
The soft knock at the door almost instantaneously followed by his daughter's arm around his leg startled him. Instinct kicked in and he scooped her up, pasting a smile on his face and walking out the door to where Carol was waiting.  
  
"Hey, sweetie," Michael whispered on his way out. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Look, Daddy," Hailey said solemnly, pointing to both the cast and sling that held her arm tightly. The brightness of the cast nearly blinded him, and he wondered for a moment how she was going to get to sleep at night. "And I didn't cry one bit," she added, glancing at Carol for confirmation.  
  
"She's a very brave girl," Carol said, nodding. "I'm sorry," she continued in a whisper. "But she was desperate to get to you."  
  
"No. Thank you," Michael responded, not wanting to have to say in front of his daughter that he had forgotten her, and glad that the paramedic seemed to understand this and offer him the perfect excuse. Hailey didn't seem to worry about it either, laying her head on his shoulder and tiredly fingering the buttons on his shirt, just as her mother would do after a long, hard day. "I don't know how I'll every repay you."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Carol shrugged, brushing Hailey's hair back behind her ear. "This one's a perfect little angel." She reached into her pocket and handed him a card. "Here's my number. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."  
  
Michael didn't get a chance to answer before Hailey looked up at him, bringing a hand to his face and commanding his attention. "Daddy, is Mommy all better?"  
  
He thought for a moment before answering. "Not yet," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and glancing at Carol. "Thank you."  
  
"Is the new baby okay?" Hailey continued, feeling that she had been left in the dark for far too long, and now wanting to know everything.  
  
Michael flinched. Carol ruffled Hailey's hair and patted Michael's shoulder. She murmured a goodbye to Hailey before giving Michael her now familiar parting words, spoken this time so that he barely heard her. "Good luck."  
  
She left and Hailey patted her father's cheek. "Daddy?"  
  
"Hailey, there's something we need to talk about," he began, leading her to a bench far enough down the hall so that Sydney couldn't hear them if she woke up. The movement also bought him time. He had no idea how to broach this subject. As difficult as it had been to convince Hailey to want and love this baby, telling her that it was gone was going to be ten times worse. How do you explain the death of something that was so loved but had never yet been seen?"  
  
Hailey waited patiently enough for a few moments, admiring her new cast as she sat beside him. "Look, I'm all protected," she said, smiling up at him and tapping a finger along her cast. "You can touch it and I don't even feel it on my skin. Is this like what the knights weared in _The Sword in the Stone_?"  
  
But Michael hadn't heard her question. A pity, since it might have made him smile, and he could have used that desperately. "Hailey…"  
  
"Maybe do you think if Mommy and me weared this in the car we wouldn't have been hurted when it crashed?" Her deep green eyes were solemn; her question not as silly as it may have seemed. Michael wanted to hug her so tightly, never having to let her go again. He wanted to do the same to her mother and her brothers, never letting his family leave his grasp.  
  
"Hailey," he started again, lifting her onto his lap so that she faced him, needing her to be close to him when her mother could not. "We need to talk about something important."  
  
"Is it about the crash?" Hailey asked. She was an intelligent child and if it hadn't been her lack of understanding of French, it would be hard to pass anything by her. "When I asked if the new baby was okay, you didn't say anything."  
  
"That's what we're going to talk about now." Now if he only knew where to begin. He wished there was some kind of prepared speech for this, but only for a moment before he realized that his daughter's curious nature would have riddled it with holes and uncertainties; there was no way anything could prepare him for all her questions.  
  
"Did the new baby need a cast too?"  
  
It would have been nice if it were that simple. _Yes, Hailey.__ The new baby needed a cast, but it will be all better to play with you after it's born._ Quick, simple, and painless, with barely a hint of suffering.  
  
"Do you remember that little bird we found in our yard awhile ago?" Michael asked quietly, not knowing where else to begin.  
  
He and Sydney had tried to keep their children sheltered from the pain of the outside world. They had decided that the two of them had had enough of it to last a lifetime and they were going to protect their children from it at all costs. The little girl and her two brothers were in bed by 8 o'clock every night, only played in the backyard if someone was out there with them, and never watched a movie that was rated higher than G if their parents hadn't watched it first. They knew almost nothing of suffering and death outside of the quick, honey-coated misery in Disney cartoons.  
  
"The one that flied into the window?"  
  
Hailey had found it early one Saturday morning, telling her mother and father that it was sleeping on the grass and maybe they should find its nest so it wouldn't be scared when it work up. She didn't know that its sleep was deeper than she could have ever imagined, that there was a kind of sleep that you never woke up from.  
  
"Yeah. Do you remember?"  
  
Hailey nodded. "He didn't move at all, even when we picked him up. The new baby can't fly, right?" She cocked her head to the side, clearly confused. He knew that he was doing this by a very roundabout way, but couldn't think of any better way to do it, knew that he needed to deliver the news slowly for his own sake as much as that of the little girl's.  
  
"No, Hailey. But do you remember what happened next with the little bird?"  
  
"We put him in a box," she said thoughtfully, suddenly brightening. "Can I see it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The box that the new baby's growing in," Hailey stated matter-of-factly. "Can I look inside real fast? I promise I won't wake it up."  
  
"No, sweetie." He would probably never perfect this parenting thing. Sydney would have been so much better at this, he was sure of it. Sometimes, he even wondered why that woman had let him father her children. "The baby's not living in a box. It's…"  
  
"You're not gonna bury it in the backyard, right?" Hailey interrupted, eyes wide, all the joy that the thought of seeing the baby had brought her quickly extinguished with this new notion.  
  
Michael had thought that the bird would be a good entry to what he had to say, but perhaps he had been wrong. If he was getting anywhere at all with this, it was definitely in a worse position than where he had started. Too bad there was never practice for things like this. You got one shot and that's it. Michael would learn from this, but it was not something he hoped to benefit from; he never wanted to have to explain this again.  
  
"The little bird went up to heaven, right?" he asked, trying to steer this conversation in the right direction.  
  
"Yep," Hailey nodded. "Mommy said it growed angel wings even though it already had birdie wings." She remembered wanting to see them, asking if the angel wings were bigger or would help the birdie fly faster. She thought that all the other birdies would be jealous because the bird's new angel wings were more beautiful than their own birdie wings.  
  
Well, it was as good a lead in as he could hope for, and he had to tell her the truth. "Hailey, the new baby went up to heaven too."  
  
The little girl frowned. As smart as she was, what they had been discussing had not prepared her for this. She thought that maybe the new baby would have pretty wings too, that it would learn to fly and maybe teach her when it got bigger. "Why?"  
  
"It got hurt in the car accident."  
  
So if it got hurt, it needed a Band-Aid, right? She hurt her elbow learning how to ride her bike, and she never grew angel wings. Her cousin had pushed her down at the playground, but she never went up to heaven. She got a Band-Aid, a kiss, and was as good as new before she even had a chance to cry. "But me and mommy got hurt, and we're not going to heaven."  
  
"You and Mommy are a lot stronger. The baby was so little and it got hurt very badly." It was difficult to explain this. He had to be careful not to make it any worse, not to scare his daughter into thinking that every time someone got hurt, they went up to heaven. He was treading on delicate ground and one step in the wrong direction was all it would take to shatter the little girl's confidence.  
  
"Did it grow angel wings and fly out of Mommy's tummy?" _Did it hurt to grow the wings? Did Mommy feel it fly out? Why didn't we see it?_ She had a thousand questions bombarding her, and was more confused now that she had more answers than she had been before. Life was so difficult to understand sometimes.  
  
"Yeah," Michael answered, smoothing her hair.  
  
A moment later, Hailey's lip began to tremble and tears sparkled in her eyes. "How come the new baby didn't want me to be its big sister? I telled it I was sorry I said I didn't want it…" She looked down and her tears dropped onto her father's lap.  
  
"Oh, sweetie…" Michael gathered the little girl into his arms, and it took all his strength not to cry with her. He rocked her gently back and forth and she wrapped her arms tightly around him. "It's not your fault, angel. It's nobody's fault."  
  
"Then why'd the new baby have to get hurt and go to heaven?" She asked, sniffling.  
  
"I don't know," Michael murmured, brushing his thumbs over her eyes to dry them.  
  
"Who's gonna take care of it when it cries?" Her daddy was drying her tears now, but he wouldn't be there to dry the new baby's tears or hug it or kiss it or tell it what a pretty little baby it is. It would never get to play with her or William or Jonny.  
  
"There'll be lots of angels up there to love it, Hailey. Grandpa Vaughn… and Grandma Bristow." They had never told their children the truth about their grandmother, and never planned on doing it. Some things were better left untouched, too difficult to explain. "And the little bird will be up there to sing it to sleep."  
  
"I think it'll like that," Hailey said, nodding and wiping her arm across her face.  
  
"Me too," Michael agreed. His little girl snuggled against him again and they sat in silence. He took a shaky breath, feeling his daughter's little heart beating against his chest and listening to the hum of activity around them.  
  
"Daddy?" Hailey asked after a moment. She scooted back to look up at him, tears no longer falling. "Can you not call me angel anymore and we can call the new baby that instead?"  
  
"I think that's a good idea," Michael answered. Never in all his wildest dreams had he allowed himself to think that a child he helped to create could be so sweet and perfect.  
  
"Goodbye, angel," Hailey called, glancing up a the ceiling and waving. And just like that, she made her peace with it. "Can we go see Mommy now?"  
  
"Yes. But first, you have to show me your smile. Mommy needs to see happy faces right now." He couldn't afford to add more sadness to that room. There was already enough in there to drown anyone who entered; maybe others couldn't feel it, but it had weighed heavily upon him the moment he had entered the room.  
  
"How's this?" Hailey asked, beaming up at him, a miniature version of Sydney's smile plastered across her face.  
  
"Beautiful," Michael responded. "Just like your…" He stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence, and quickly changing the subject. "Now, we'll go see Mommy, but only for a few minutes because she's very tired. Then I'm going to take you to Grandma's house, and…"  
  
"How am I gonna get to Grandma's house?" Hailey interrupted him, her voice quivering, her forehead wrinkled with concern.  
  
"I'm going to drive you and then come back here." It hit him as he said it. Had he been in her shoes, he wouldn't want to get back in a car so soon either.  
  
"What if we crash again?" Her voice was so tiny, and he realized then how small and helpless she actually was. She was only a little girl.  
  
"Don't worry, sweetie. Your mother and I will always try our best to protect you." She didn't need to know that car accidents were something that there was no protection from. If she was satisfied with his answer, that was all she needed.  
  
"Promise?" Hailey asked, still uneasy.  
  
"I promise." But the shadow of fear still lingered on his daughter's face. She hadn't bought his answer completely, but she was still young enough to be distracted into happiness. "Is the tickle monster going to have to come and find your smile?" Michael asked with mock seriousness.  
  
"Maybe," Hailey answered, without a hint of teasing or happiness.  
  
Michael willed himself to smile for Hailey's sake. She had been through a lot today, and it was the least he could do for her. He tickled her ribs until she squirmed with laughter.  
  
"Okay!" Hailey managed in between giggles. "The tickle monster can go away now!"  
  
Michael obliged, taking his hands off her. She leaned forward, tottering without the ability to use both arms to balance, and he helped her move toward him. She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Daddy." To think how close he had come to losing all this…  
  
"I love you, too," he answered automatically, the words finding their way over the lump in his throat without a problem. "Now, let's go see Mommy." He lifted her down and took her hand. "Don't be scared when we go in the room. Mommy was very hurt."  
  
"I'm brave," Hailey stated. "Carol said so."  
  
"I know you are," Michael replied. "Mommy might be asleep, so we have to be quiet." He led her into the room and Hailey paused in the doorway, staring at her mother. "Come on, sweetheart."  
  
Sydney was so still that at first he thought she was still fast asleep. But lifeless as they appeared, her eyes were open, so he took their daughter over to her bedside.  
  
Hailey took her eyes off her mother for a moment to glance uneasily at her father. Her fingers tightened around his. He probably should have prepared her better for what she was now seeing, maybe shouldn't have taken her in at all. But he knew that the child had to see for her own eyes that her mother was still living and breathing, that eventually she would be okay.  
  
"Syd, I've brought you a visitor," Michael murmured, picking Hailey up so that Sydney wouldn't have to turn to see her.  
  
Sydney's eyes met her daughter's and he could see the emotions that flashed through them, so quickly that one was barely discernable from the other. But there they were. The relief at seeing her daughter all right, the sadness and anger when she saw the bruises and cast, the guilt at causing her pain.  
  
Hailey wrapped her arm tightly around her father's neck, leaning her head against his chest but still keeping eye contact with her mother. "H-hi, Mommy." Somehow she managed a flash of a smile, gone almost before it was even there.  
  
"Hailey…" Sydney murmured, her voice low.  
  
Simply hearing her mother's voice was enough for Hailey. As unlike her mother's normal cheerful tone as it was, it still managed to brighten the little girl. She realized that it was indeed her mother underneath all the bruises, and her shyness and fear melted away. "You have something in your arm," she stated, pointing to the IV. "Does it hurt?"  
  
"Not anymore," Sydney whispered, answering truthfully. It had stung when they first put it in, but compared to the pain elsewhere, it was nothing; it had been numbed away.  
  
"Look, Mommy," Hailey said, glancing at her cast and sling. Her voice had been sad earlier when she had said the same words to her father, but now it was cheerful. "The doctor said it will be all better in no time."  
  
Sydney didn't seem to hear her merry tone, however. Her eyes locked on the cast, and she saw it as a symbol of pain, her ears filled with the little girl's screams as they rose above all the other noise and commotion from earlier. "I'm sorry, Hailey."  
  
"Don't say you're sorry, Mommy," Hailey responded, shaking her head. "Never ever. It's not your fault."  
  
Michael froze. _Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…_ How many times had he said those words to his wife? His daughter had never heard him say it, but somehow she had known.  
  
Hailey didn't notice her father's strange glance, and Sydney either didn't recognize the familiar words or didn't care, her face still the same void it had been when he had first walked in the room, distant and emotionless.  
  
Suddenly, he realized that somewhere deep down he had been hoping that their daughter would have been able to bring the light back to her mother's eyes. But Sydney had retreated too far in her shell for that. He had always been able to reach her and pull her out before, usually without the help of their daughter. But Sydney had lost herself in territory unfamiliar to him, too deep into the maze for him to penetrate easily.  
  
It pained him more than words could say, and he wanted to get Hailey out of there before she noticed the change in her mother's behavior. The little girl didn't need anymore sadness today, and out of all that had happened, he thought that losing Sydney like this, still having her, but not in the same way, was probably the worst of all. He would work harder than anything to bring her back, but it would take time.  
  
"Say goodbye to your mother, Hailey," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "She needs her rest. You can come visit tomorrow."  
  
"Bye, Mommy," Hailey chirped obediently. "Don't worry. You'll be all better soon." She brought a tiny hand up to her lips and blew Sydney a kiss. "I love you."  
  
"Goodbye, Hailey," Sydney whispered. And if the little girl noticed that for the first time, her mother didn't say she loved her back, she didn't say anything.  
  
Michael carried her out of the room and down the hall. Hailey didn't say a word until they were in the elevator, taking her father's chin in her hand and tilting his face towards her. "Daddy?"  
  
His eyes answered for him, told her that he was listening and she didn't call his name again. He needed a break from speaking, knew that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to hold back the sobs that were beating against his chest.  
  
"When you come back," the little girl continued, "make sure you give Mommy lots of kisses so she's not so sad."  
  
The elevator beeped as the doors opened, and the movement of walking out saved him from having to respond. Ordinarily, the little girl's tactic would have worked; his kisses would have restored a smile to Sydney's face in no time. But he knew that he wouldn't be so lucky this time. They had suffered through so much before, so many strange and exotic dangers. But it was an ordinary one that had broken them. He shifted Hailey so that he could hold her with one arm, using his free hand to wipe away his tears before they had a chance to fall.


	11. Things Fall Apart

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 11: Things Fall Apart  
  


~~~

Thanks Kiki, MB138, Jaryn, Amy, Whitelighter Enchantress, and Dreamwriter 4 Life. It will get better _eventually_. How's that? Hopefully you'll be able to stick with it till then... Welcome, valley-girl2! Thanks for reviewing!... One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie: You love me? ;^) That's a nice switch…

~~~  
  
It was nearly two weeks later and everything was back to normal. Or at least that's the way it might have appeared. To the casual observer, nothing had happened between Sydney and Michael Vaughn. They were still the young, almost-too-loving couple that appeared to have never seen more than ten minutes of pain and suffering in their entire seven years of marriage.  
  
But casual observers always miss something. They had never been and will never be spies. Michael noticed everything, all the big things, all the little things, and everything in between.   
  
That Sydney always surrounded herself with the children the moment he walked in the door, so she barely had a spare moment to talk to him before they went to bed. That she wore long sleeves and pants even though it was almost summer. That her hair was always worn down, at first to hide the dark bruises on her face, now to hide the fact that the sparkle was missing from her eyes.  
  
Her spirit had been beaten out of her, strapped side by side with her happiness at the whipping post. He could hear the whistling of the leather strap as it flew threw the air, the crack as it smacked against its victims. He could feel the wind from the quick motion of the whip, and the pain and agony. Her happiness and life lay bruised and bleeding, not able to take much more, but still being relentlessly beaten day after day.  
  
But he did nothing. He had thought he had saved her from it, barely in time. He had thought that she had left her life of terror just before it could have gotten any worse, that the two of them had forged a new life together, full of nothing but glimmering, golden joy. He had obviously been wrong.  
  
All the pain and suffering of her past life that he thought she had forgotten had come screaming back, joining the events of almost two weeks ago and expertly inflicting its torture, knowing exactly what was the worst kind, what would break Sydney until she spent every moment on the verge of tears.  
  
He thought that if he just left everything alone, it would all go back to normal. He didn't know that he still clung to the hope that he and the children would be able to cure her, snap her out of it. For his part, he tried to be home as early as he could everyday. But the office had picked this week of all weeks to become extremely busy, requiring him to get there earlier in the morning and leave later at night. Before, he could have left at almost any time, but he had suddenly seemed to become the one person that the CIA could not function without.  
  
When he was at home, he tried to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Everything was just the same as it had been for the day before, and the day before that, going back for more than seven years. Surely if he thought nothing was wrong, nothing would be.  
  
Hailey unwittingly did her part, simply by being a bundle of cheerful happiness. She had bounded home from preschool after her first day back radiating with bliss and sunshine, proudly holding up her cast and showing her mother and father how it had been decorated.  
  
Michael smiled at the signatures. The careful cursive of the older children (for even the big kids who came on the school bus wanted to sign it, Hailey had pointed out proudly), the wobbly print and backwards letters of those just learning to spell, and the scribbles of the ones who hardly knew which end of the marker to write with.  
  
To say that the little girl had been deeply emotionally scarred by the car accident would be a vast overstatement. Although she still became teary-eyed in the black of night when frightening nightmares found their way into her little head, by day she was the superhero of the daycare and this week's most sought after girl when it was playtime.  
  
But Sydney did not share her daughter's happiness with this newfound fame and attention. While Michael was amusingly admiring the scrawled signatures on the bright pink cast, Sydney looked past them, seeing only the pain and hurt that lingered below. Poor Hailey seemed only to remind her mother of what had happened, of what Sydney had been unable to protect her little girl from.  
  
But there were still two other children. Jonny, too, was his usual exuberant self. And Michael was sure that one of his antics would have caused a smile to grace his mother's face. But even when the little boy walked around for an entire day with a plastic bowl on his head and refused to take it off, Sydney did not laugh.  
  
So it was not up to Jonny, or even his twin. William sat quietly observing everything, a shadow of a child, almost not there at all. And Michael's hopes were quickly dashed, shattered almost before they had come fully into being. For he never let himself think that he had wanted the children to cheer their mother up, never gave in to the fact that anything was wrong at all.  
  
Everything in the Vaughn house was exactly the same as it had been before. There was a mother and a father, and three cheerful children. Absolutely everything was the same, except…  
  
"How come Mommy doesn't smile anymore?"  
  
Hailey had asked him that question just the other day, and he hadn't had an answer for it. So maybe he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Maybe Sydney's distance and depression had been more apparent than he would have liked to think. He had tried to pretend as if nothing had changed. But indeed that's not the way it was.  
  
The moment he had come back to the hospital after dropping Hailey off, Sydney had said she didn't want to talk about it. And they hadn't, not once. But now, he was beginning to wish they had. Because it wasn't only the lack of a smile or the sparkle that had once danced in her eyes. Her face, her eyes, her face, were constantly blank, devoid of all emotion, of anger, fear, sadness. She had not cried once after that single tear had dropped from her eyelashes. She had not shown any emotion at all.  
  
And it was beginning to become startlingly apparent that he couldn't pretend anymore. It had been almost two weeks, but he was just letting himself notice it now. Something was wrong.  
  
  
Michael walked into the house just twenty minutes before his lunch break was over. He had been hoping to eat with Sydney, but construction in the city had made traffic unbearable and he knew it would take all his time just to say hello to his wife and get back to the office before the afternoon debriefs began.  
  
The house was almost eerily silent. There were no footsteps, no voices from the television, no music, not even the jingling of Donovan's dog tags. Nothing.  
  
At both his and the doctor's bidding, Sydney had taken these last few weeks off from work, and the kids were still sent to daycare for awhile so that she could have some time to relax.   
  
Michael made his way to the bedroom, knowing somehow that he would find Sydney there. "You'll never believe what happened at the meeting this morning, Syd," he began cheerfully as he walked down the hall, determined that soon everything would go back to normal.  
  
For a moment, he let himself think that they were back to the time just after they had gotten married, when everything was so perfect, when there was only the two of them and they were so much in love that they couldn't even see past it to recognize that there had been any pain and suffering in their lives.  
  
"Marshall told Devlin that…" he stopped short, spying his wife the second he walked through the bedroom door. "s***, Sydney."  
  
She started at the sound of her name, whirling around and bringing her arms around to cover her nearly bare chest, looking at once very exposed and vulnerable. She had been searching through her dresser for a shirt, and as hard as it was to believe, this was the first time he had seen her without clothes on since… since it had happened.  
  
But instead of igniting him as it would have before, it made his blood run cold. She had always been thin, but this… The only time he had seen her worse than this was when he had found her right before Hailey's birth. He could see the ribs poking out of her skin, her flushed cheeks suddenly seemed much more hollowed. He should have seen it before, but had been afraid to open his eyes to it.  
  
He was at her side in a minute, but she turned away, not wanting him to see her like this. He tried to put his arms around her, but she slipped out of his grasp, quickly grabbing a sweater and throwing it hastily over her skinny frame, the baggy material hiding what he had just seen. And he wished that just like that, it would all be gone, but finally knew better than to be fooled by wishful thinking.  
  
"Why are you home?" Her voice was quiet and thin, the question softly spoken.  
  
"I-I came home for lunch… to be with you." He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling like a gawky teenager, unsure of what to do. "Come here."  
  
She backed away. She looked frightened, but for the first time, not of a dream or an enemy. She was frightened of him. "No, I-I…"  
  
He lunged forward, lifting her shirt and exposing her ribs once again. It hadn't even been two weeks and already she looked like this. How had he not noticed earlier? If only she had let him touch her, if he had insisted on holding her tightly every time she backed away from him…  
  
"Jesus, Sydney," he whispered, running a finger along her skin, making her gasp and tremble, but he knew it wasn't passion that had caused her reaction. "You _have _to eat."  
  
"I am eating, Michael. Please…"  
  
He gathered her into his arms, not letting her pull away. She might have blamed herself for what had happened with the car, but he blamed himself for this. He brought her head against his chest, right to the spot where she fit so perfectly, and held her there, rocking her back and forth like a child, finally finding the courage to murmur. "Syd, we have to talk."  
  
She struggled out of his grasp and moved away from him, at once frightened by his words and his tone. Talking would mean confronting the issue, acknowledging that something existed, that something had gone wrong. She didn't want to do that.  
  
"Michael. I'm fine, I swear to you."  
  
It was a lie and he knew it. Her lips spoke the words he wanted to hear, but her eyes were begging for help, telling him that she was anything but fine.  
  
"Please don't be worried about me," she continued, willing her voice to be strong, for her heart to mean the words that were spoken. Somewhere deep inside her, she wanted him to worry, she wanted him to care. She wanted him to take her hand and pull her up from the side of the cliff, bringing her back to comfort and safety.  
  
"Syd," he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. "You're not worrying me, you're scaring the s*** out of me."  
  
She didn't react to his words at all, not moving an inch, barely breathing. He clamped a hand around her wrist, the force of it contrasting with the gentleness with which he led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table.  
  
"I have to go back to the office for the meetings this afternoon. But I'll get out as soon as they're done, and we'll go out to dinner, just the two of us." If he could just have some time alone to her, if he could just get her to talk. He had tried to at night, knew that whenever he got into bed, no matter how late it was, she wasn't sleeping. But whenever he tried to pull her into his arms, she moved away. Whenever he whispered her name, she closed her eyes tighter.  
  
"I don't know if…"  
  
"We're going, Syd. Please, just do this for me." As he spoke, he opened and shut cabinets until he found a can of soup and a pot, and set to work preparing lunch for his wife.  
  
"But I… I don't want to… to…" Sydney struggled with the words, finally giving up and turning her gaze to the window.  
  
He knew what she was trying to say, what she didn't want to give voice to. "We won't. Not tonight, not if you don't want to. We'll talk about other stuff," he said with a forced smile. "I'll tell you about all the fun I've had at my meetings, and you can tell me what the kids were up to, okay?"  
  
She didn't answer, her eyes still focused on the window and the mystery that was contained outside its glass.  
  
"Syd?" He walked over to her and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. At least this time, she didn't shrink away. "Syd, I have to get back to work now. I swear, if I didn't have these meetings…"  
  
"Michael, I'm fine."  
  
He nodded, wishing he could believe her, and walked towards the door, pausing before going out of the house. "Eat the soup. Please?"  
  
"I will."  
  
And as soon as his car went down the driveway, she took the soup from the pot on the stove and poured it down the drain, the angry growling and clashing of the garbage disposal washing it all away. She just wasn't hungry. Not anymore.  
  
  
Michael raced home the second his meetings were over. Today, he had had a breakthrough. She had let him touch her for almost the first time since it had happened, and he was sure with a little time and love she would be better soon. He had always been able to get her to smile before, and he wasn't about to relinquish that power now.  
  
But the house was empty. The kids not there, the car gone. Donovan was the only one to greet him, swaggering slowly into the kitchen and standing expectantly by his food dish. But if Donovan was expecting to be fed any time soon, he was going to be sorely disappointed.  
  
Michael picked up the phone, dialing the number that had become more than a little familiar to him in the past years.  
  
"Hello?" His friend's voice sounded tired and even a little frantic.  
  
"Eric, is Francie there?"  
  
"Hey, what's this, man?" Eric asked, perking up when he recognized Michael's voice. "So you call looking for her now? I see how it is."  
  
Michael could hear a high-pitched wailing in the background, accompanied by a loud, metallic beat. Little Drew was obviously home, and either thought himself a rock musician or was dying. But he didn't really have the time to figure out which it was, hoping that if his son were indeed dying, Eric would know better than to answer the phone.  
  
"Eric, come on…"  
  
"No, she's not," he said with a sigh. "It's just me and the little tyke. All by ourselves. For the past hour until Mommy gets back from the store. Hey, Mike, what're you supposed to do when the kid…?"  
  
"I was just looking for Syd," he interrupted.  
  
"So now you call _my _house looking for _your _wife?"  
  
Michael knew Eric was teasing, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Eric, just…"  
  
"She actually just called here a little while ago," Eric continued. "Wanted to know if Drew and Francie wanted to go to that new playground. But Francie's not here, and I don't do the whole playground thing… Hey, are you all right, man? Is something, did something, you know…"  
  
But Michael missed Eric's momentary lapse into compassion, cutting his friend off with a hasty, "Thanks a lot. Bye" and leaving Eric wondering what the hell had just happened.  
  
Michael was out the door moments later, leaving a still-hungry Donovan to stumble his way back to the patch of sunlight he had recently vacated and wait for someone more attuned to his needs to enter the house so he could beg for food then.  
  
Michael found Sydney sitting next to his sister on one of the park benches. They weren't speaking, and Jacqueline looked extremely uncomfortable, gladly giving up her seat and walking away to where her daughter was pushing Jonny on the swings.  
  
He didn't say anything as he sat down next to her, surveying the cheerful, noisy scene before him that was the playground. William was playing quietly in a nearby sandbox, and he caught a glimpse of Hailey as she ran by in close pursuit of Seth.  
  
She was the first to speak, which surprised him. He was still thinking of what to say.  
  
"How'd you know I was here?"  
  
"I… I was just driving by and saw your car," he lied. He didn't want to anger her, didn't want her to know how frantic he had been when he had walked in the house and she hadn't been there.  
  
She nodded, but he felt as if she saw right through him. "I promised the kids we'd go to the playground today," she mumbled. "I forgot to call you."  
  
He turned to face her, catching her eye for a moment before she quickly broke from his gaze. "You didn't eat the soup."  
  
"How'd you know that?" she asked quickly.  
  
"I didn't," he said softly. "But you just told me." He hated having to do this to her. It just felt so wrong. "Syd…"  
  
"Mommy!" Hailey was before them in an instant, her impeccably bad timing without fail. "Hi Daddy!" she shouted excitedly, climbing into his lap. "Tell Seth that even if I have a pink cast, and I'm a girl, and I'm not seven years old, I can still go down the slide!" she whined.  
  
As if on cue, Seth appeared. "Whatever she said it's not true!"  
  
"Is too! You said that there was special rules for the slide and I couldn't go on, and that…"  
  
Seth flushed, knowing that he had been caught. "Th-the rules changed now!" he stammered, crossing his arms.  
  
"Really?" Hailey asked excitedly, immediately forgiving.  
  
"Yeah," Seth grumbled, digging his toe in the gravel. "Everybody can go on the slide… Except for little tiny babies!" he added, brightening.  
  
"And efelants," Hailey chirped, too excited to notice or care that she hadn't said the right word, and jumping quickly from her father's lap. "'Cause they won't fit!"  
  
"And fish, 'cause there's no water!"  
  
The two of them ran off, with cries of "And lions! And snakes! And monsters!" echoing after them. Apparently, as long as someone or something was not allowed on the slide, Seth was content, and as long as she could go on the slide, Hailey was too.  
  
Michael watched the little girl run away, the child that he and Sydney had created, that their life would not have been the same without. "Syd, I know that…"  
  
"Please, Michael, I don't want to talk about it." She was begging him now. She had finally turned to face him, her face emotionless, but her eyes haunted.  
  
"Syd, we have to."  
  
"Not yet. Not now."  
  
"We should have a long time ago. We should have never let it get like this. _I_ should have never let it get like this."  
  
She blinked and dropped her eyes from his, unable to hold his gaze for too long. He remembered when he used to wake up and find her gazing into his eyes, telling him that she had been watching him sleep for hours. Now, she could barely hold him in her sight for a few seconds.  
  
"Syd…" He brought a gentle hand to her shoulder, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms. His skin was screaming for her touch, and he thought he could hear hers answering back. But she was strong; she silenced it, immediately putting her armor on once again, the armor that protected her from anything, but worst of all, that blocked her off from him.  
  
"William!" she cried, suddenly standing up and making her way to the sandbox. "Don't put the sand in your mouth!"  
  
The little boy looked up, startled. He hadn't had the sand anywhere near his mouth, but had been calmly piling it before him in a crude sort of castle, his own silent fortress.   
  
Michael jumped up after his wife did, only the two children that he nearly stumbled over, keeping him from catching up to her and the "Dammit, Sydney!" from springing from his lips.  
  
Sydney scooped the little boy up and William didn't protest, quickly finding comfort in his mother's arms and not minding one bit that his playtime had been interrupted. She brought him back to the bench and sat with him on her lap, facing her. Michael sat back down next to his wife, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, but far enough away so as not to frighten her away with his touch.  
  
"Syd, please," he whispered, bringing a tender hand up to brush her hair back behind her ear.  
  
She closed her eyes, and he knew she was wishing for all of it to go away, him included. An instant later, her eyes snapped open. A tiny hand was patting her stomach, a small voice calling her name. "Mommy?"  
  
Sydney and Michael focused all their attention on their son, everything else, all the noise of the playground simply melting away. His voice was sweet and refreshing, like the smell of freshly cut grass on a summer's day. But just as you are enjoying its scent, you remember that you're allergic, and the moment is lost in a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. For William's words, though innocent and never meant to cause harm, startled and stung.  
  
Michael saw his wife put a hand over her mouth, fighting back the tears and the pain. She wasn't supposed to acknowledge that it existed, she wasn't supposed to show it, but it was there, the little boy's words drawing it out from its hiding place among the shadows.  
  
"Where's the baby?"


	12. All of Her Twists

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 12: All of Her Twists  
  
  
If Michael had turned to face her a moment later, he would have missed the shock and hurt that crossed Sydney's face. Just as soon as it had sprung up, it washed away, replaced with the blank expression he had grown accustomed to seeing these past two weeks.  
  
She deposited William on his father's lap and stood up. The little boy frowned as his mother let go of him, but didn't try to hang onto her as another child might have.  
  
"I…I have to go," Sydney stammered, almost tripping over a little girl as she backed away. "You'll take the children, right, Michael?"  
  
"Syd, wait…"  
  
But she was already walking away, not even waiting for his answer, leaving him on the park bench with his youngest child in his arms. Neither father nor son noticed the curious glances of the other adults in the park (most of them young mothers, wondering what the hell this man had done). Michael's eyes were glued on Sydney's retreating form, and William's never left his father.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
He hadn't even thought to explain it to the twins, assuming that they had barely understood the pregnancy in the first place. But Michael was starting to second-guess that decision. Jonny might not have had a clue, but William seemed determined. This was probably the most words that Michael had heard him utter at one time.  
  
The little boy was watching him expectantly. He looked confused, and Michael wasn't sure if it was possible for a child his age to even begin to comprehend what was going on. But William was full of surprises today.  
  
"The baby?" he pressed, unwilling to let his father get off so easily.  
  
"Um…" Michael cleared his throat, trying to buy some time. He had thought that explaining this to a four-year-old had been bad enough, but what about a child who barely has enough words in his vocabulary to speak complete sentences?  
  
"The baby went bye-bye," he tried.  
  
"All gone?" William asked, his deep eyes serious and understanding.  
  
"Yeah, buddy," Michael nodded. "All gone."  
  
The little boy didn't respond with words, which is what Michael had come to expect from him; he had spoken enough for the day and retreated back into his world of silence. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his daddy's chest, his little hands barely reaching Michael's back.  
  
Without a word, Michael kissed his son and picked him up. The two of them gathered up Hailey and Jonny, and after a few quiet words with his sister, Michael packed his children into the car and hurried home.  
  
Miraculously, Hailey didn't ask why they had to leave so soon, or where her mother had gone. But maybe that was because the second he turned the car on, Michael had popped in a Kids' Songs CD and turned the volume up as loud as he deemed he could without damaging anyone's hearing.  
  
When they got home, he sat the kids in the living room, turning on the Disney Channel and putting Hailey in charge of her two younger brothers. Apparently, some very intriguing cartoon was on, saving him once again from his daughter's curiosity.  
  
The bedroom had become Sydney's retreat, and he wasn't surprised to find her there, looking out the window. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but he could tell that she knew he was there.  
  
"You can't be mad at William, Syd," he began, taking a few steps towards her. "He's not even two years old."  
  
He was right behind her now, would be touching her if he leaned forward. He could see both of their reflections in the glass of the window, but she was looking beyond it at something else, something he couldn't see.  
  
"I told him," he whispered. "About the baby. He wanted to understand." He suppressed the urge to touch her, to comfort her. This had to be done first. "And he does understand, now… It's all gone, Syd."  
  
"Stop it."  
  
Her words were so soft, so low, that it took him a moment to understand them, to realize that they were actually words at all.  
  
"It's the truth, Syd. And you need to understand it, too."  
  
"Stop it, Michael." She whirled to face him this time, not realizing how close he actually was to her and accidentally smacking him and immediately jumping back, as if he had been on fire.  
  
"Syd, we need to talk about it."  
  
How many times had he said that to her? How many times would he continue to say it and still get the same answer?  
  
"No." _There was nothing wrong, nothing wrong, nothing wrong…_ If only she could…  
  
He reached out and snagged her wrist, stopping her from darting out of the room and away from him.  
  
"Yes." He felt like a child responding to her like that, like they were two recess enemies fighting over who was going to get the good jump rope. "And you're not leaving until we do."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about. Everything's fine."  
  
He saw her blank expressionless eyes, pictured her ribs protruding from her skin. How could she not see it? But then again, he had gone for weeks not letting himself see it, hadn't wanted to. And he knew how stubborn his wife could be…  
  
"Syd, have you _seen _yourself? Everything's far from fine." His grip on her became gentler, and he stepped towards her. "Just let me…"  
  
"Stop it." Her voice was harsh, almost poisoning him with its sticky venom, but inside… _Help me, help me, help me…_ "I mean it."  
  
Why was it so easy to lie to him now? She had fought with herself for years, hating having to withhold the truth from her friends. And now, the one man who knew everything about her had suddenly become the one man she didn't want to know anything at all…  
  
He shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry."  
  
She gazed up at him, emotions suddenly bombarding her face, and he couldn't tell if her expression was hurt or angry. "Why don't you trust me anymore?" _Please, Vaughn, please…_  
  
Her words threw him, and he let go of her arm. She hadn't lost any of her speed or agility over the years, and didn't waste a moment scrambling away from him. But he had had those years to study her, grow close to her; and despite his shock, he was ready, springing quickly forward and blocking her path.  
  
"Ow! Dammit, Michael!" _Why do you have to get in the way? Why do you have to care? Why won't you give in?_  
  
"Syd, I wasn't kidding when I said I…"  
  
"You wouldn't understand."  
  
And that hurt more than anything. More than any other word she had ever spoken to him, than anyone had ever spoken to him. More than a million knives thrusting their blades into his skin, twisting and turning so there wasn't an inch of him that they missed.  
  
And he exploded, the love still there, but all the patience and tenderness gone the moment those words left her lips.  
  
"s***, Sydney! It was my child, too!"  
  
The French came easily, naturally; and thank God for that, because he had forgotten all about the three little pairs of ears listening from the next room, their TV show no longer as captivating as it had been just moments before.  
  
The anger had found her as well, tightening its flaming grip around her words and actions. She matched him in force, language, and tone. "Then why won't you leave me alone?! Let me make my peace with it my own way!"  
  
"Because you're not, Sydney! God, you're not, and you're forgetting about everything else." He hated yelling at her; he hated it more than anything. But he couldn't stop himself; the words wouldn't leave his mouth at a softer tone. "What about the kids? This isn't fair to them."  
  
"I'm here for the kids, Michael. They know that."  
  
She picked them up from daycare. She made their supper and read them books. She tucked them in at night. She made a point to be with them, so that she wouldn't have to be with him, so that she wouldn't have to talk to him, so that she wouldn't have to acknowledge that anything was wrong.  
  
"They know you're here, but they also know that it's not you. You didn't see William's face when you left the park, or hear Hailey ask why you don't smile anymore, or…"  
  
"That's not fair, Michael." _Oh God, she was hurting them, her little babies. She was supposed to protect them, but…_  
  
"No, Sydney, it's not. It's not fair to _them_."  
  
She didn't have a response for this; locking her eyes with his and refusing to look away. He was almost relieved to see the anger stirring within her. At least it was an emotion; she was feeling _something_, and that had to be a step in the right direction. But as good as he thought any emotion was, he had never seen anger in her like this, not directed at him.  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you earlier," he murmured, his tone immediately softening as he realized the harshness of his earlier words. He knew that she would never want to hurt the children, would never try to, would never do it on purpose. "I didn't want to see it, Sydney. But you need help to…"  
  
She didn't hear him finish his sentence. She had been starting to listen; the burning ice that had built itself up around her was beginning to melt, letting her true emotions known, at least to herself. She wasn't so frozen anymore, wasn't so numb…  
  
But Sydney Bristow had hated to need help, and, not surprisingly, that had not changed with her last name. She might not have remembered this on her own, but her smoldering anger and burning pride had not let her forget, quickly forcing the words out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them.  
  
"I don't need help." Her voice was clean, crisp, and dangerously slow, contrasting severely with the sudden, warring emotions inside her. Pride forced her to speak the words, but wouldn't let any emotion besides anger show through.  
  
"Sydney, don't do this."  
  
"Leave me alone."  
  
She shook herself from his grasp and he unwillingly let her go, not wanting to hurt her. She stormed across the room, a hurricane of confusion and anger. And he would have let her go at that moment, would have completely relinquished control. If he had not seen her falter halfway across the room and slow down, pausing a moment and clutching at the doorway.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
The sudden torrent of feelings had created a cyclone inside her, confusing everything in her mind, turning it all upside down, even the objects in the room. But it wasn't like she had never felt this way before, like she had never been dizzy, like her head had never hurt. She could handle it. Just like she could handle everything else. Just like…  
  
Her grip on control may have been slippery, but it was strong and determined. And to be in control, she had to let the numbness take over. If she let her feelings show through, she would surely lose it, becoming nothing more than a muddy puddle on the side of the road.  
  
She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind of everything: the thoughts, the feelings, the dizziness. But came nowhere near to succeeding. Her emotions continued to weave in and out of each other, overjoyed that they had finally broken through and clinging to what little power they had. The dizziness only slightly receded at the sound of her husband's voice repeating her name. And for a moment she almost forgot that if she didn't push him away, she would lose it, she would be giving in. But only for a moment.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
"I'm fine!" she snapped, harsher than she had meant to. Anger was having its way with her, bending her to its will like metal to a flame. She was trapped inside fury's puppet, could smell the freshly painted wood encasing her, see its flaming fingers moving her strings. But there was no way to escape. Whenever she struggled against it, it pulled at her tighter, until…  
  
He was by her side in a moment, ignoring her tone. She could feel the anger move her strings, forcing her to look away from him, not to make eye contact. The numbness had joined it, returning quickly, its damp, frigid breath making her blood run cold.  
  
"Why don't you come lie down?" He stood in the doorway so that she couldn't leave, putting a hand on her shoulder. Everything was forgotten the moment she had started to sway, everything except his concern for her.  
  
"Get out of the way, Michael." _Please, please, please, please…_  
  
"Syd…"  
  
If she listened to him for one more second, if she spent one more moment standing there so close to his arms, she would have caved. She would have given in to the fear and the confusion and most of all the gut-wrenching sadness, and flung herself at him, never leaving his arms again.  
  
That's why she had to get out now. She didn't know where the words came from, didn't recognize it as her voice that spoke them. But there they were. Apparently, with the help of the numbness, anger was able to completely take over her voice, knowing exactly which words would sting her husband, her friend, her lover, the most.  
  
"You know as well as I do that I can _make _you get out of my way."  
  
And that's all it took. His head flooding with the memories, the moments he wished had never ended springing from the ones that never should have happened…  
  
_And I'd never hit you either, Mike. You know that, right?… You're amazing… You have no idea how much I missed doing that… You want to have quick sex, in the laundry room, when th… Stay with me…please… I love you, Michael Vaughn…_  
  
He stepped aside, hoping that his quick surrender would make her give up as well.  
  
But she ran, fleeing from him, the anger, the numbness, the pain. Out of the room and out of the house, never looking back. He watched her retreat, and this time there were no playground children to keep him from shouting after her.  
  
"Dammit, Sydney!"  
  
He followed her to the door, only to have it slammed in his face. He was about to open it, to follow her outside, to get in his car and drive after her, to the ends of the earth. And remembering just in time that he couldn't.  
  
"Uh oh."  
  
Because reason number one had just opened his little mouth and uttered that simple phrase without really understanding what was going on, only knowing that his mother and father had been shouting, and…  
  
Reason number two's bottom lip was trembling. No words were spoken, but none were needed. He had seen his mother run from the house, run like she was running from something big and scary, but…  
  
Reason number three gazed up at him sadly, understanding more than her brothers, recognizing the shouted language as the French her parents used when they didn't want her to hear. And it didn't sound like it was being used as the language of love this time.  
  
"You didn't say I love you." That was the one French phrase that she understood, and she had been listening carefully for it during the shouting, hoping beyond hope that all this would turn into something good.  
  
"No," Michael answered. There was no use hiding the truth or lying. There was no use telling the little girl that they had found other ways to say 'I love you,' or that she just had not heard them. "I'm sorry we were so loud."  
  
He had learned to expect the unexpected when it came to questions from his daughter, but sometimes she still managed to catch him by surprise.  
  
"Are you and Mommy going to stop being married?"  
  
Never ever. Not on her life, his, or anyone else's. Not if everything in the world was drawing them apart. They both knew too well what it was like to be forced apart and never wanted to have to live that way again. She had been his for over seven years, and as selfish as it sounded, there was no way in hell he was going to let her go. Ever.  
  
But there was no way to voice that to a small child. Three small children, for he realized that after what had happened at the park, he couldn't dismiss his two little boys as not understanding anything that was said. There was no need for the three of them to know how serious this was, so…  
  
"After one little fight?" Michael asked, trying to write off what had just happened and offering his children a small smile.  
  
Hailey hopped off the couch and ran over to her father. He knelt down to be at eyelevel with her, mentally preparing himself for anything that she said.  
  
"Then how come you never ever kiss anymore?" she asked, clearly concerned about this fact. She had been accustomed to seeing her parents display their affection, that to see them not kiss was something strange and new.  
  
"We kiss sometimes," he responded. It wasn't completely a lie; Sydney _had _allowed him to kiss the top of her head earlier that day.  
  
"Not like you used to."  
  
He didn't need the little girl to tell him that. His lips had been burning for Sydney's touch for days, but she had always pushed him away. Not counting certain times, the ones that were left mostly forgotten (but not completely; there was always something that would remind them, and you can never completely let go of something like that), he couldn't remember ever having gone so long without kissing her. She was always right there, but just out of his reach.  
  
"Mommy's still kind of sad, Hailey."  
  
His daughter gave him a small, sad smile. "Like she always wants to cry but can't."  
  
And that was exactly it. He could find no other way to describe it, but a four-year-old had put words to it perfectly. Whoever said children should be seen and not heard should have been shot. They would have missed all the little things in life, all the wisdom that children have to offer; they sometimes see things more clearly than adults do.  
  
"Amy from school said that her parents fighted a lot and never ever kissed, and then they stopped being married."  
  
Suddenly he saw the world from his daughter's eyes, and realized how scary it would be to think that your parents didn't love each other anymore, that they were going to get divorced. But this only gave him something else to feel guilty for, something else that he thought he could have prevented if he hadn't tried to block out the truth.  
  
"Hailey, your mother and I would never stop being married," he assured her. "I promise you that."  
  
"There are lots of kids at school that's mommies and daddies aren't married anymore," she stated, eyes wide. "How do you know that you and Mommy will be together forever?"  
  
"Because I love your Mommy too much to _ever _let her go." And that was the complete and total truth, without the sugar coating or the cream filling. It didn't need it; it was perfect just the way it was.  
  
Her worry melted away with her father's answer. He was so serious, so sure. And he had never failed her before. She smiled at him, a real, spitting image of Sydney, bright eyed, and dimpled smile.  
  
"Then how come you're still standing here?" she asked, leaning forward and hugging him. "In the movies, if the princess runs away and the prince really really loves her, he turns into a knight in shining armor and gets on his horse and goes to get her." She pulled away and regarded him seriously. "You just have to pretend that your car is a horse, okay?"  
  
He was able to offer her a real smile this time. And it wasn't until they had all gotten into Bullseye (the kids had just watched _Toy Story 2_ in daycare, and Hailey insisted they all call the car that), that he realized it probably wasn't going to be that easy.


	13. The Awakening

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 13: The Awakening  
  
~~~  
See, Whitelighter's got it! Knight in shining armor to the rescue!... It's not that I _forget, it's just that I remember when it's not convenient (like when ff.net decides not to work…). But it will get better. Right now, in fact. Well, it's still kinda sad, but it's get better sad. It only goes up from here, and there's only like 2 more chapters after this, so…  
~~~  
  
  
Michael drove straight to his mother's house, intent on dropping the kids off there so he could go himself to find Sydney. This was something only he could do, that he needed to be alone for. Because he knew that this would be his last chance; and as much as he loved his children, their children, he couldn't risk breaking the moment, breaking Sydney beyond recognition and out of his grasp.  
  
But the second he pulled into his mother's driveway and saw her closed garage and darkened house, he knew he had to come up with another plan. Because it had to be Thursday. Because Thursday had to be Bridge Night. And because even if his mother was running a temperature of 104 and coughing up a lung, she was willing to risk the health of both herself and her fellow bridge players rather than miss Bridge Night.  
  
It would have been much too simple if he could have just dropped the kids off there and hurried on his way. And someone seemed hell bent on making his life as difficult as possible.  
  
But some quick thinking and a few extra miles down the road brought him his solution. He got the children out of the car and rang the doorbell. Someone yelled from inside, and Michael knew that his friend's fiancée had yet to return home. He opened the door and ushered his kids inside. "Eric?"  
  
"Mike! Hey!" Eric sounded instantly relieved to hear his friend's voice. Little did he know that for him, things were about to get much worse. "Can you help me out for a sec? I think Drew swallowed a penny, but…" He paused when he finally came into view. "Man, you look like hell."  
  
Drew immediately ran from Eric over to Jonny and William. Apparently, spending quality time with his father had taught him how to change the channels on the TV using the remote, and he was excited to demonstrate his new skills to his friends.  
  
The three boys left the room, followed by Hailey. It didn't matter that Drew was two years younger than she was. Hailey knew how to change the channels _and_ adjust the volume, and she intended to show the younger kids her superiority.  
  
"Can you watch the kids for me?"  
  
Oh, Eric was going to hate him. But Michael knew his friend wouldn't deny him this request. Even if he did, the three Vaughn children would be staying at the Weiss/Calfo residence for as long as needed. Michael Vaughn was on a mission. The only way Eric could have gotten out of this one was through death or absence, and Michael already knew that he was home, so…  
  
"Sure, but this penny thing. You know, he seems okay, but… Whoa, wait, what?"  
  
His eyes bugged out of his head. Michael could practically see the gears working as Eric rewound his friend's former statement and did the mental math. His own son, a four-year-old girl, and both twins… That made four kids. Three more than he had (or planned on ever having) and three more than he was used to dealing with…  
  
"I need to go find Syd, and…"  
  
Eric held up a hand to stop him. As much as he teased Michael about his love and concern for his wife, Michael knew that he had a soft spot for her as well. "You need to _find_ Syd? I thought she took the kids to the playground."  
  
Michael took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, but we… we kinda had a fight…"  
  
"And so you need to go "find" her and "make up." Eric crossed his arms and tilted his head, giving Michael "the look."  
  
"Yes… no!" Didn't he wish it were that simple…  
  
"Oh, come on, man. Don't give me that _I haven't had sex in weeks!_ look. I know the two of you," he said with a sigh. "A little more than I would have liked to thanks to that little exhibition in the…"  
  
"Eric." Michael's tone was warning, but his gaze even icier. Any other time he was game for his friend's teasing and eager to shovel it right back, but now…  
  
"Holy s***!" Eric exclaimed, glancing over at the kids and immediately lowering his voice, his face lighting up. "You _haven't_ had sex in weeks, have you? That has to be like the longest you two have ever gone without…"  
  
"We're not discussing this now," Michael said firmly.  
  
"Later then?" Eric asked hopefully, but at Michael's look, gave in. "Okay, jeez."  
  
"Just watch them for me," Michael implored, nodding in the direction of the living room and starting to walk out of the house.  
  
"Wait, Mike," Eric began frantically, suddenly realizing that there weren't just four kids in his living room. There were four kids that were going to be alone with him in a matter of seconds. "You know how I said I don't do the whole playground thing? That's because there are way too many kids there… And by "way too many" I mean more than one."  
  
"Please, Eric. It's not that hard. You can handle it."  
  
He was going to have to handle it, because in thirty seconds, Michael planned on walking out that door, and he didn't plan on having his children with him…  
  
"Dude, you were the one who was going to have four kids, not me."  
  
These words froze Michael, chilling him to the core, numbing his bones. Even the slightest movements: his heartbeat; his diaphragm moving up and down with his steady, controlled breaths… threatened to break him, shatter him like icicles breaking off the edge of the roof and plunging to the frozen snow below.  
  
Eric's voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, noticing his friend's expression. Michael could hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He had made his peace with it, he had been over it. He had, really. But having his friend mention it so casually, realizing that he could have and would have _had_ four children, that none of this would ever have happened if…  
  
"…plant is found in shady… girl couldn't remember where… the chocolate makes…"  
  
The volume on the television had increased to such a high level that it was surprising the kids hadn't blown out their eardrums. It quickly quieted, but those few seconds were enough to jolt both men back to reality.  
  
"Oh s***. I-I wasn't thinking, Mike… I'm sorry… How're you both holding up?"  
  
He knew that Eric hadn't meant it, had only been teasing him. He knew by his quick, stammered words and red face that he was genuinely sorry. He knew that it shouldn't have bothered him, but…  
  
Michael sighed and offered his friend a small, sad smile. "Just watch the kids."  
  
He didn't wait for Eric's answer before walking out the door, leaving the poor man to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do with three extra children, and when in God's name Francie was going to get home.  
  
  
Michael got in the car and drove, not needing to stop and think, never taking a second to consider that she could have been anywhere, that he had no idea where she was. He knew. Without a thought, he knew.  
  
Which was why he wasn't surprised or relieved to see a lone figure standing at the pier, gazing into the water. It didn't take a second glance to tell him that it was her. He didn't know how or why he had this uncanny ability to find her whenever he, whenever they, needed it most. He was simply grateful for it, unwilling to question such a miracle any further.  
  
Sydney knew he was there without turning back. She had known he would come, wanted him to find her. Perhaps that was why she had come to the pier in the first place. He would follow her to the ends of the earth; she knew that from experience. But more often than not, he had followed her to this very spot, where they had spent some of their first quiet moments, veiled with mystery and forbidden from action.  
  
He waited before coming to her. She thought that perhaps he didn't want to, that he hadn't really wanted to find her, but felt he had to out of duty.  
  
And her heart broke. She longed more than anything to turn to him, to run up to him and let him comfort her; but she was planted in place, her neck refused to turn, her legs wouldn't move. She didn't know that he was afraid to come to her, thought that if he approached her, she would run like a frightened animal into the forest, never to be seen again.  
  
Like a whisper in the wind, he appeared beside her, finally giving in to the anxiety gnawing at him. She could see his reflection in the rippling water, close enough to her own to be considered near to her, but far enough to give her space. Far enough so that she couldn't feel him, couldn't feel the heat radiating from his body, the warmth that she needed to melt her, to take away the chill.  
  
It was Sydney who moved closer to him, who put her hand on top of his own on the railing. Michael didn't say a word, almost afraid that if he did, it would all vanish into vapor, would all be a dream. But it was real. He could feel her hand on his own, hear her soft breaths next to him.  
  
Somehow, the words found their way to her mouth. Not the words she wanted… _I'm sorry, Michael. I'm sorry, Michael. I'm sorry_… But words nonetheless.  
  
"Do you remember," she began, her voice a whisper, "when I found out I was pregnant with Hailey?"  
  
"Of course," he answered quietly. How could he ever forget? "It was one of the happiest days of my life."  
  
He didn't need to tell her that the only ones that had beaten it were when he had felt her lips on his own for the first time, when she agreed to and finally became his wife, when he had held his children in his arms for the first time. She knew it just as well as he did. Both of them did.  
  
"I thought you would be angry," she continued shyly, as if the day were playing over that moment, as if they were suddenly almost five years younger. And then going back further, as if they hadn't spent the last seven years together, as if they had just met, as if they were gawky teenagers all over again.  
  
"I could never be angry about something like that," he replied, wanting to tell her that he would have a thousand kids with her for no other reason than they were half hers and half his, theirs together.  
  
"I know." _And I love you, I love you, I love you…_  
  
She loved him for it, because of it, in spite of it. Because there were times when he should be angry. Like now. God, like now. He should be cursing, shouting, at least trying to put her through even half the hell she had dragged him through over these weeks.  
  
But he wasn't. He was better than that, better than she deserved, better than she should have ever had. He should be with someone else, someone who was as sweet and kind and understanding as the man before her was. But not with her, not with her even though… _I love you, please, I'm sorry, don't leave me…_  
  
The tears welling up in her eyes were from frustration this time. Because she knew what words to say, but they had forgotten the way to her mouth, wouldn't come out. She didn't understand it, was becoming unnerved by it. The numbness still held her and she couldn't shake it no matter how hard she tried.  
  
And she _was_ trying now, harder than she had ever tried anything before. But the thing was, she had let it have its way with her for so long, had let it mold her, shape her, punish her. She was its child now, beaten into obedience and afraid to step out of line, to do anything that would give it cause to cut a switch off the willow tree and smack it against her bare, baby-soft skin.  
  
It was the most in depth conversation they had had since their happiness had been washed away, and the closest they had come since then to discussing what they needed to the most. But that appeared to be the end of it. He wasn't sure what else to say, what ground was safe to tread on and she didn't volunteer anything else, at least not verbally. The pressure of her palm on his hand was wavering, her hand shaking.  
  
That one small detail told him how close he was to breaking what was holding her, that seized her with a grip so strong and vice-like that love alone was nearly not enough to banish it from her.  
  
"Syd…" he murmured softly, not knowing what he wanted to say, but needing to whisper something to her, to tell her that he was still there, would always be there.  
  
She could feel that one simple syllable seeping into her, filling her with warmth. She longed to be set free, to run from herself and into his arms, to completely escape the numbness that had overtaken her so completely. She tried to answer him, to mumble his name in return, but couldn't find the breath to make the word a reality.  
  
She closed her eyes, letting the words play over and over in her head, the words she wanted to say, the words that she was somehow unable to. …_I want you I need you I love you I want you I_…   
  
She knew the right ones now. Knew how she had hurt him, hurt everyone else. Why couldn't she make it right? Why couldn't she try?  
  
…_need you I love you I need you I need you I need you I need you_…  
  
"Baby…" he whispered, trying again, so used to calling her that that the word flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. As hard as it had been to remember, he hadn't said it since then, hadn't even uttered that word within her hearing.  
  
But he remembered how she had hissed at him when he called her that after the accident, how hurt and angry she had been. And all he could do now was hope that she wouldn't lash out at him this time.  
  
She didn't say a word, good or bad; didn't move away from him, didn't take her hand from his. And he silently thanked God for that, wanting to whisper so much more to her, knowing that there was so much more to talk about, so much more that had to be said, but suddenly unable to remember anything at all aside from one simple fact.  
  
She was still his.  
  
She was broken and bleeding and so close to the edge. But she was still his. And in that moment he knew that he had really had nothing to worry about all along. She was just as incapable of leaving him as he was of leaving her. The bond between them, forged from the intertwining ores of friendship, marriage, parenthood, and love drew them inextricably together.  
  
No matter what, they would be together; nothing that either of them said or did, nothing that tried to eat away at it or draw them apart would be able to. The bond would never be broken; they both realized it suddenly, as if they had somehow known it all along.   
  
Sydney couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Everything seemed to be rushing around her. The coldness melting from her leaving a void so large that it seemed it would never be filled. The numbness had been all she had, all that kept her from feeling, all that kept her at once both alive and dead.  
  
But just as suddenly as the hole ripped itself inside her, the emotions she hadn't been able to feel, hadn't allowed herself to, came fighting in, too many and too strong for the space to contain. She was bursting with them, and they fought against the flimsy fence that the numbness still kept around her, the only thing that kept her from finally giving voice to her feelings, the only thing that kept her from completely falling apart in Michael's arms.  
  
Her hand squeezed his as she tightened her grip on the railing, fought against the emotion that threatened to bowl her over. Her chest was on fire, and she suddenly remembered that she needed to breathe, quickly gulping in more air than she could handle, almost choking on it.  
  
She struggled against the numbness and herself, at the same time wanting it to stay and longing to rip it from her chest. Without it, she could feel. At last, she could feel; both a blessing and a curse. The rush of emotions was painful, almost too much to take.  
  
Michael felt her grip on his hand increase, knew that she was only trying to grab onto the railing, to keep her balance, but hoping there was something more to it. Hoping almost against hope that she wanted him, she needed him, she… she loved him.  
  
He finally stole a glance at her, allowed himself to look at her, needing to see her face, to remember that she was still there, it was still her, still his Sydney. That one quick glance confirmed his wishes.  
  
He never thought he would be so happy to see her so close to tears.  
  
And he suddenly knew what he should say, what had to be said, should have been said long ago. There was only one thing left, one thing that would break the numbness from her completely, that would save her and bring her back to him again.  
  
So, tearing his gaze from her, he cleared his throat and took a deep, shaky breath. His forehead furrowed with wrinkles and had he been capable of further movement, if he hadn't thought his knees would give out if he so much as lifted a finger, he would have brought a hand up to nervously ruffle his hair.  
  
"You really did want this baby… didn't you."  
  
And there it was. He had spoken the words so softly that he didn't think she had heard him. Her hand still shook, she was still silent, frozen. He focused his gaze on the water before them, afraid to look at her if she had heard his words, had seen the anger lurking within her eyes, dying to break loose. He knew it would have to be unleashed to run rampant with her other emotions, but still didn't want to see that look in her eyes. The one he had seen during their fight earlier, where she looked lost and frightened, enraged and betrayed, where it seemed as if her world had crashed and she was the sole survivor.  
  
If he had looked over at her, he would have been able to put all his fears to rest; would have seen the lone tear trickle down her cheek as the numbness melted almost completely, and the emotion leaked from within, quickly finding the small hole in the fence.  
  
The guilt grabbed hold of her first, coupled with its henchmen: regret and sorrow. It shrouded her with thick, dark blackness, blinding her from the world, making it hard to breathe. She felt something around her neck slowly tightening, chilling her with fear, overwhelming her.  
  
Sydney had to rid herself of the numbness completely, had to speak before she was punished by her own guilt. It was already too late, had been too late for days. But it was better late than never, better than not said at all.  
  
Her voice was soft and harsh, not a voice he would have recognized as hers at all. It was as if these were the first words she had actually spoken in two weeks.  
  
"I'm sorry, Vaughn."  
  
And she looked at him then, actually into his eyes and not beyond them or through them. Like he was the only thing in the world, in her world, like she wasn't the sole survivor, wasn't alone after all. Her eyes were swimming with sadness; she was trying to maintain her composure, wanted to say more to him.  
  
"Don't," Michael choked out, the rest of the words lodging themselves in his throat. It was almost better that way. Even if he felt that he didn't need this apology, there was no question that she did.  
  
Before he could say anything else, Sydney was in his arms, fitting perfectly against him as she always had, her arms tight around him, afraid to let go. But it didn't matter, because he wouldn't have let her even if she tried. At the same time, it felt so right and so wrong. It was always where she belonged, where they belonged, but never with such guilt and sorrow, never for such a reason.  
  
Michael Vaughn's persistence had won out once and for all. His love and determination, his whispering of her name had drawn it out. This time, a flash of emotion was all she needed, the sorrow and guilt so strong that they beat down anything in their way, pouring out of her and never ending, taking control of her now as the numbness and anger had before.  
  
And suddenly the bottom dropped out from under her feet, hurtling her downward, even after she had launched herself into his arms. The tightening around her neck was painful, the jerking of the cord that held her above the ground nearly her undoing, nearly stealing the air from her entirely.  
  
Because those words weren't enough, would never be. Because the guilt was too much for one person to handle, because she had hurt he people she loved more than anything in the world: the man before her and their three beautiful children.  
  
They had been her spark, her light, leading her as she crawled across the frozen wasteland. But her journey had hurt them as well; she hadn't prevented them from getting frostbite, but had aided in its painful and freezing quest.  
  
And that's what led her to the gallows of guilt, what took the platform out from under her and left her swinging on its coarse, dark rope. But despite his own pain, Michael was there to cut her down, to save her from her guilt and from herself. He was there to hold her in his arms, and wasn't going to let go, wasn't going to give up.  
  
She was only able to utter two more words before she broke down completely, knew in an instant that she wasn't worthy of his forgiveness, of him. Only two words before the heart-wrenching, guilt-ridden sobs wracked her body and soul, before she buried her head in his chest and collapsed against him, shaking so hard that he thought she would break.  
  
"So sorry…"_


	14. The Chocolate War

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 14: The Chocolate War  
  
  
  
She had never cried like this before. He would have known, would have remembered, could probably use only his ten fingers to count the times he had seen her in tears. But not one of those fingers would have stood for a time like this. Her sobs were not just for their lost child, although that was a big part of it; they were for the pain she had caused everyone, the pain she felt They were for everything, all those times she didn't cry, all the times she should have.  
  
She had broken, and he realized it was what she had needed all along. He had let her keep herself from the very thing she needed. Like a broken bone that needed to break again before mending the right way, Sydney had to fall apart before she got better, before things went back to the way they were before.  
  
But it was still starting to scare him. Michael had never seen tears like this in anyone. Ever. Because no one he had ever known had felt such guilt and grief. He held her tightly in his arms, knowing that if he let go, she would have gone tumbling to the ground, both in mind and body.  
  
After a few moments, Sydney struggled out of his arms. Instinct told him to let her go, even though he didn't want to take his arms from around her. Her tears were choking her, gagging her, sickening her; and she leaned over the railing, her body heaving. But her stomach was empty, her body's efforts fruitless. Michael never lost contact with her, had an arm around her waist to hold her up while his other hand rubbed her back.  
  
Slowly, her sobs began to subside. She had run out of tears, crying more in that one moment than he had ever seen her cry in all the years he had known her. She took a deep, shaking breath, body trembling as if the air had to fight its way into her lungs. Her breathing still uneven but the tears no long blinding her completely, she finally turned to meet his gaze.  
  
Her eyes pained him, red and swollen, of course, but so teeming with emotion, with anger and sadness and guilt and fear. So filled with sorrow that it seemed as if it had transformed into something tangible and made up her tears, as if it was what had overflowed and wracked her body with such violent sobs.   
  
"M-M-Michael…" Her voice was so soft that he could barely tell when that one word trailed off, almost didn't notice that it wasn't followed by any others.  
  
"Shhh, baby, it's okay." He cradled her face with his hands, bringing his thumbs up to brush across her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to rid them of the sorrow still puddled there.  
  
She fell into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. Despite the warm temperature outside and her long sweater, she was shivering. Perhaps the cold she felt was physical, or maybe it was left over from the chill that had so recently given up its invasion of her soul. He hugged her back, rubbing his arms against her to warm her, hoping it would help whether she was shivering from the cold outside or within.  
  
"No, Michael. It's not okay," she finally mumbled into his shirt, her lips vibrating against the fabric that was already damp with her tears.  
  
"But it will be." It had to be. It would because he would make sure it did, would give anything to have things back the way they were before.  
  
She took her arms from around him and pressed them between her body and his, pushing harder against him, wanting and needing to be as close to him as possible. It seemed an eternity since she had been in his arms.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Michael." _For everything…_  
  
"I know," he murmured, understanding now that she needed to apologize, learning the hard way that it wasn't always best to try to hide from the bitter truth, to cover it with candy-coated sprinkles and pretend it was as sweet as ice cream and not as disgusting as Aunt Trish's meatloaf. Because the meatloaf is still there, and although the sprinkles detract from its ugliness, the taste remains. And there is no way candy can make that better. If anything, the sugar only contrasts with the vile dish so vividly that it makes it ten times worse.  
  
Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, both content to have the other back. Michael never loosened the hold he had on his wife, was surprised that she hadn't complained of lack of air. But she merely rested her head against him, her fingers moving restlessly against his chest.  
  
"We lost our baby, Michael," Sydney finally whispered, breaking the silence. "_I_ lost our baby."  
  
"No, Sydney. Don't," Michael commanded, gently but firmly. She seemed convinced that she was the cause of this, of all of it. And while both of them knew that she had unintentionally prolonged their sorrow and suffering, she had not been the cause of everything. No one was or ever could be. "It is _not _your fault."  
  
"But I…"  
  
"Syd, that could have happened to anyone, anywhere. There's no way in hell you or I or anyone else could have stopped it. Just like there's no way to prevent Jonny from hitting his head on the coffee table, or Hailey from getting the flu. Those things happen everyday. There's no way to stop them."  
  
He wished there was. That he could somehow prevent his family from ever being scraped or bruised, from ever shedding a single tear, or even seeing a rainy day. But there was no way to prevent or even prepare for the perils of everyday life. They happened without warning and were over before you even had a chance to blink, leaving you to somehow clean up the mess, whether it was with a simple Band-Aid or two weeks of grief.  
  
"But you and the kids," Sydney began. "I wasn't there to help Hailey through the most traumatic experience of her life, or to answer William's simple question, and…"  
  
She hadn't been there at all for any of them, but even that wasn't the worst of it, not in her mind. Because although the children noticed that their mother didn't smile, she was always there to hug them before they left for daycare and to kiss them goodnight. But…  
  
"…I was awful to you, Michael. There's no way I could ever apologize enough to any of you."  
  
"We're not asking for that, Syd. The kids just want you to be there for them now. The twins hardly know what's going on as it is, and Hailey will forget all about it as soon as her cast comes off."  
  
They were young; wouldn't even remember come this time next year. Surrounded by so much love and happiness, what few sad times they did have seemed nothing more than a bad dream. Hailey could tell him everything that had happened two Christmases ago, but the visit to the emergency room that resulted from her then newfound walnut allergy was nothing more than a blur.  
  
"But what about you?"  
  
She didn't seem to understand what it meant to him to be with her, what it had always meant just to give her a quick peck on the lips. All she could think of was the pain she had served to him, the hateful things she had said, the way she had treated him…  
  
"Syd, I'm just glad to have you safe in my arms right now. I don't need anything else."  
  
She understood then how he felt. Because his heart was beating with hers, mirroring her love for him. Because she could never be held close enough to him, could never get enough kisses from his lips, could never tire of being in his arms. Because she loved him.  
  
"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and for a moment he was afraid she would cry again.  
  
"Don't ever say that, Syd." He couldn't even think of any other woman he would rather be with, and thanks to the way she talked in her sleep, he knew that he was the only man she dreamed about at night. "We deserve each other. I would be nothing without you." He paused, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I love you, Sydney."  
  
"I love you, too," she murmured.  
  
Although her voice was quiet, her response was immediate, automatic, without hesitation or a second thought. His heart sang at that, the feeling nearly painful. It was as if it had let out such a sweet, strong note that it had simply burst, filling him with warmth. He would have pulled her tighter against him, but realized that was impossible, so he kissed the top of her head.  
  
Everything was almost better. Not quite happy; that would come later, when the last of the pain had finally left, when the shock of sudden, strong emotion had left her and she was ready to feel again. But there was one thing left, one thing that had to be said.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes without uttering a word. But he had her attention, and that was enough. He had her, and that was all he needed.  
  
"We can always try again," he murmured.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Her one-word response may have seemed uncaring or less than enthusiastic, there may not have been a smile on her face. But her eyes spoke volumes. A glint of hope, happiness, and love was all he needed to know that it was indeed going to be all right, that he didn't have to try to convince himself of something that was never going to happen, that his Sydney was hidden beneath the guilt and sorrow, would fight her way out of the pain and into the bliss that was their usual life.  
  
"Yeah," he answered, smiling down at her as she laid her head against him once again. "If you want to, and when we're ready. Otherwise, we have three beautiful children at home already. And I'll always have you. I'll be happy either way."  
  
She didn't respond to that at first, and he almost thought he had lost her again. But she finally did speak, not the words he would have wanted to hear, but the ones she needed to say yet again, probably felt she could never say enough.  
  
"I really am sorry, Michael." _Thank you, I'm sorry, I love you more than life itself…_  
  
"I know, baby. I know."  
  
And that was that. A half an hour of tears and quiet conversation had taken care of it, could have smoothed it over much earlier, would have prevented her from wasting away and given them both back the last two weeks.  
  
He didn't know how long they both stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. It was pure, enraptured heaven, and if he could have found a way to bottle that moment, he would have without a second thought. Not to market and sell it to the masses, not to profit from its surefire success, but to hoard for his very own. To keep it in a damp, darkened cellar and let it sweeten with age, only bringing it out on a most deserving occasion.  
  
Sydney was finally relaxed, seemed almost to be falling asleep in his arms. And he would have stayed that way with her forever if he hadn't realized that the sun was beginning to set and his children would probably be corrupted beyond repair if they stayed at Eric's much longer.  
  
"Syd, baby?" he whispered, deciding that if she was asleep, he would pick her up and carry her to the car, instead of waking her.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"We should go get the kids."  
  
He felt her nod as she broke away from him, reaching into her pocket for her keys. But Michael plucked them gently from her fingers the moment she took them out. He didn't care that she had only had the car for a little over a week or that by the pier was probably not the best place to leave it. She was in no condition to drive, and after just getting her back, he didn't plan on letting her out of his sight.  
  
"We can get it tomorrow," he shrugged to answer to her questioning glance.  
  
"Okay."  
  
She didn't fight him as she probably would have two weeks ago. _I can drive my car, Michael. There's no reason to leave it here. We'll come back tomorrow and it'll be gone… _As annoying as it was at times, that seemingly death-defying stubborn streak was a part of her. It would still take some time before she would come back to him completely, but it would happen. Everything would go back to normal, back to happiness. He was sure of it.  
  
  
  
"_Daddy_!!" Hailey squealed, pouncing on him the second he walked through Eric's door. As before, no one had answered his knock, so he let himself in.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun with Uncle Eric?"  
  
The little girl nodded vigorously, pulling on his hand until he was kneeling at her eyelevel. "We watched _A Turn of the Jet Eye_…"  
  
"Jedi! _Return of the Jedi_!" Eric called, rounding the corner. "Hey, Mike."  
  
"… Only the end, 'cause it was on TV. And there was a robot and teddybears and a princess, but she didn't wear a pretty dress or a crown," Hailey chattered. "Where's Mommy?"  
  
"In the car," Michael answered, giving his daughter a hug and a smile before standing. He had made Sydney stay in there while he went in to get the kids, promising to be back quickly. She didn't argue against that either, probably hadn't really wanted to go in, in the first place.  
  
"So, did you…?" Eric asked.  
  
"Yeah, everything's gonna be okay."  
  
Eric grinned, deciding it was safe to take this conversation one step further. "Good, because when I see you at work tomorrow, you better not have that look on your face."  
  
"What look?" Hailey asked innocently, her curiosity never failing.   
  
Michael scowled at his friend. He would have thought that having a child of his own would have made Eric more careful of what he said, but that definitely did not appear to be the case. He was just as bad now as he had been before, and there was no doubt about it that poor little Drew was going to know much more about certain subjects by the time he was six than the Vaughn children would know when they were thirteen.  
  
"Uh, _that _look," Eric answered, laughing nervously and gesturing to the frown that had yet to leave Michael's face.  
  
Hailey frowned, examining her father. "Daddy never looks mad like that at home."  
  
"That's because he…"  
  
Michael's glare this time could have sent even the bravest man running from the room screaming. But his friend had seen it more than once before.  
  
"… has you three beautiful children." Eric finished after a quick pause, smiling with satisfaction.  
  
"That's right," Michael responded, shaking his head at his friend and sighing.  
  
"And your pretty mommy," Eric continued, eyes dancing as he maneuvered himself well out of Michael's reach.  
  
Drew and Jonny chose that moment to come barreling down the hallway, and Eric grabbed Jonny as he passed. William was following much slower, and parked himself by his father's feet without any prodding.  
  
"Francie didn't come back yet?" Michael asked, although he was already sure of the answer. A quick glance around the house confirmed it just as easily.  
  
"No, she called about half an hour ago. Ran into one of her old friends at the mall and went out to dinner with her."  
  
"So, I bet you're hungry," Michael said to his kids, getting ready to usher them out the door.  
  
"Actually, I fed them."  
  
Was it really Eric speaking? Eric Weiss. The very same man who had a special knack for burning Ramen Noodles back when they had first met? It had to be that Eric, simply because with the exception of himself, there were no other adult males in the house. It took Michael a moment to answer, even to buy time with a simple question.  
  
"What?" He still couldn't believe this statement. How on earth could his friend have fed four children without killing any of them or sending the house up in flames?  
  
"Yeah. Macaroni and cheese," Eric stated, grinning proudly.  
  
"'Roni! 'Roni! 'Roni!" Jonny cheered, jumping up and down.  
  
"_I'm_ still hungry," Hailey whined.  
  
"You can take some home," Eric suggested to Michael. "I figured, four kids, four boxes, and then threw in a couple extra just in case. But I guess your kids don't eat that much, because there's a lot left over."  
  
Hailey yanked on her father's arm to get his attention, shaking her head vigorously. "It had orange powdery stuff in it," she explained. "And the macaronis was crunchy." Her eyes were pleading; he could almost hear the little voice inside her head: _Please don't take it, Daddy. Say no. Please…_  
  
"Jonny liked it," Eric stated, a little too defensively, considering he was arguing with a four-year-old.  
  
"He eats Donovan's food all the time," Hailey shrugged.  
  
And Michael wanted to laugh. His friend had been most assuredly beaten, and he decided to interject before things got ugly. "Thanks for watching them, Eric. I owe you one."  
  
"You owe me more than that, man. You have three kids. This one," he said, pointing to William, "I'll take anytime. I forgot he was here a couple times. But the other two…"  
  
"Tomorrow, Eric," Michael interrupted before anyone could get their feelings hurt. "We have to go… Take your brother's hand," he said to Hailey, and she obeyed and grabbed Jonny as he scooped up William. "Thanks again."  
  
He led his children out the door. Sydney had gotten out of the car to help him get the kids buckled in, and she waved to Eric.  
  
"Hey, Syd!" he called, and then, evidently still hurt about the whole macaroni and cheese incident but wanting to make it right (most likely to prevent Hailey from telling everyone she knew how bad of a cook her Uncle Eric was). "Oh, wait, Hailey. I have something for you. Come here."  
  
Hailey looked up at her father, and Michael nodded for her to go ahead. He quickly grabbed Jonny's hand as she let it go and scampered back towards the house. Michael and Sydney silently buckled the twins in and both ended up on the passenger's side of the car, waiting for Hailey to return.  
  
Eric's front door opened and Hailey bounded out, slamming it shut. "Daddy! Look what Uncle Eric gave me!"  
  
"What's that, sweetheart?" He asked, giving Sydney a wry smile. Previous experience had awarded him with the knowledge that that statement usually did not precede something good.   
  
"There's no nuts in them and he let me try some back in the house," she cried happily, waving something in the air so energetically that he couldn't tell what it was. "They're good. Uncle Eric says they melt in your mouth and not in your hands," she added, forcing something into his palm. "How come we never have them at home?"  
  
Michael didn't need to look down to know what he held in his hand. But he did anyway. A rainbow of colors, but all he saw was the red. Red everywhere. On the floor, dripping up the stairs, and now on the sidewalk, too. Always red.  
  
"Uh oh," Hailey murmured, holding up her color-stained hand for her parents to survey. "I think he was wrong. M&M's _do _melt in your hands."  
  
It was funny how his distaste for, almost fear of, the color never transferred over to anything else. Sydney had looked stunning in the crimson dress she had worn to the office Christmas party last year; he didn't mind the boys' red overalls or Hailey's doll with the flaming red hair. It was only the candy, only _this _candy. It was probably childish and definitely strange, but there it was. There was no way to change it.  
  
"They're yummy," Hailey said, nodding avidly. "Try 'em."  
  
Michael didn't move. It was Sydney who lifted Hailey into her car seat and buckled her in. "I don't think Daddy likes those," she murmured before shutting the door. Hailey nodded gravely, as if sorry that her father was missing out.  
  
Of course they had never tried to explain it to the kids, probably never would. Sydney still didn't knew exactly why Michael was so adverse to the red ones, only the red ones. But she could guess. And she would probably be right.  
  
Michael was still frozen next to her, staring at the candies in his hand. And although Sydney had just as much, if not more, reason to hate the red ones as he did, without a word, she plucked them from his hand.  
  
One, two, three, four. That's all it took and the red was gone. She dropped them to the ground as if they burned her, taking a deep breath as they clinked against the asphalt of the driveway.  
  
The absence of red melted him, and making sure Hailey couldn't see, Michael quickly overturned his hand and released the rest of the candy. He didn't think he could stomach any of the colors tonight.  
  
He glanced up and met Sydney's eyes, wanting to take her face in his hands and pull it to him, longing to kiss her until he couldn't breathe, suddenly missing the feel of her lips against his own more than anything in the world. But he wasn't sure if she could handle that right now, feared doing anything that would shatter her beyond repair.  
  
So he settled for a tender kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. He would have whispered his thanks, but knew she wouldn't accept it. The silence between them went unbroken as he quickly took her hand and squeezed it before getting back into the car and driving his family, his entire family, home.

~~~

Better?

Oh, and the M&M bit if anyone is confused… The short story is that the red ones remind Vaughn of blood. Sorry. This wasn't meant to follow the other ones as closely as it did…

But don't worry. One chapter left. The end is in sight (and already written, as Becky can attest to)…


	15. To Still a Rocking World

Everyday Peril  
Chapter 15: To Still a Rocking World  
  
~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone, and for the reviews. Well, here it is, the last chapter (and it's _long_). Enjoy!

~~~

  
The ride home was nearly silent. Sydney took Michael's hand the moment he got in the car and didn't let it go until they pulled into the driveway. Words weren't exchanged between the two; they weren't needed. Their comfortable silence was only broken for the briefest of moments, when Hailey asked if they were going to have "real" dinner, and Michael told her he would make her something when they got home. The twins had eaten their fill of Eric's macaroni and cheese; Jonny out of a mysterious liking for the concoction, and William, it seemed, from a strange (for a child his age) mixture of politeness and respect.  
  
It wasn't until the entire Vaughn family was inside the house that Sydney spoke to him again. The first words she said to him since they left the pier. "I'll go get the twins ready for bed."  
  
Michael surveyed the scene before them. Jonny looked like he had macaroni stuck in his hair and would definitely need a bath. William was quietly petting Donovan, who had seated himself impatiently by his dish the moment he had heard the car in the driveway and seemed intent on staying there until someone decided to feed him. Hailey was already rooting through the refrigerator, seeing what there was for "real" dinner.  
  
And Sydney was exhausted. He could see it in the dark bags under her eyes and the way she leaned a little against the kitchen chair, could hear it in her quiet, breathy voice as she spoke the words. She looked barely able to keep her eyes open, let alone give their twin boys a bath and go through the nighttime ordeal of finding and getting them into their pajamas.  
  
"You should go to bed, Syd. I'll take care of the kids."  
  
"It's okay. I've got it."  
  
She wanted to do it, wanted to help. He could see that in her eyes as well. It was almost as if she needed to prove that she still could, was using it as another way to show she was sorry. He wanted to let her do it, was so close to giving in; it would, after all, make his night easier. But…  
  
"Baby, you're exhausted."  
  
She smiled softly at him; a swift, barely nonexistent lifting of the corners of her mouth. He wouldn't even have considered it a smile two weeks ago, but it counted now. "You just make Hailey her dinner."  
  
He didn't have a chance to argue as she took the twins and led them from the room. William came readily, at his mother's side even before she called him. Jonny had to be carried. He could sense it was bath time and was putting up a fight, apparently intent on saving the macaroni that adorned him for a midnight snack and unwilling to have it washed away.  
  
Michael almost considered calling her back, telling her he'd wash up the twins and she could get their daughter's dinner ready. But quickly scratched that from his mind. She had wanted to do this, hadn't given in when he told her not to. She was coming back to life. Besides, this way, he could make dinner for her as well and make sure that she ate it before going to bed.  
  
"_Da_ddy!" Hailey was pulling on his pant leg, and it was only then that he realized she had been calling his name for awhile.  
  
"What, sweetie?"  
  
Now in full possession of her father's attention, Hailey smiled sweetly up at him, letting go of his leg. "Can we have girl cheese?"  
  
"_Girl _cheese?" He asked warily. He was just as capable of refusing his daughter anything as he was his wife, and he silently prayed that this wouldn't involve any artistic ability or creativity on his part.  
  
"Yeah, the kind that you cook on the stove so the cheese is all melty."  
  
Ah, _grilled _cheese. She hadn't said anything about transforming the sandwich into a girl, and although it appeared to just have been a mispronunciation on her part, he wasn't going to bring it up. Plain grilled cheese was quick and easy. He could handle that.  
  
"Sure," he answered, getting the bread out of the cabinet and locating the butter dish.  
  
"Can I help?" Hailey asked, already bringing him the cheese before he had a chance to respond.  
  
"Yep. Thanks." He extracted a pan from the cabinet under the counter and began to butter the bread. "Why don't you put the cheese on?"  
  
"Okay," Hailey answered brightly, but after he had buttered four slices of bread and put two down in the pan and the others butter-side-up on the counter, it was apparent that she was going to need some help. "The cheese is all sticking together," she sighed a moment later, finally giving in to his questioning glance and handing him the package.  
  
"How about you give Donovan his dinner?" Michael offered, finishing his work on the sandwiches and remembering the hungry dog still waiting by his dish.  
  
The little girl obeyed and skipped merrily across the kitchen, her failure with the cheese all but forgotten. She slowly and carefully carried the food bag over to the dog bowl and began to pour it out.  
  
"Is the kind that's not cooked called boy cheese?" she asked, as the dog food began to clink into the bowl. Distracted by her own question, she looked up at her father, and without waiting for his answer, continued, "Do you think it's boy cheese 'cause it's not cooked, and girls cook better than bo… oops."  
  
Donovan's dish had filled to overflowing, spilling over onto Hailey's feet. But it had saved him from having to answer her questions, from having to shatter her belief in "girl" cheese at the tender age of four. She would figure it out by herself before it mattered, but in the meantime, he had to admit it was kind of cute.  
  
Hailey tried unsuccessfully to scoop up the extra food while keeping the excited little dog at bay. Michael grinned and moved to help her.  
  
"We should give some to Uncle Eric," Hailey stated matter-of-factly, smiling at her father. "He can mix it with his macaroni and cheese and nobody will even be able to know."  
  
Michael had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing. As much as he loved to hear his best friend be made fun of, he had to teach his daughter that it what she had said wasn't nice. She was more than likely beginning to catch on to how the two men relentlessly teased each other, and he regretfully realized that he was probably going to have to tone that down until Hailey was old enough to understand what she could and couldn't say.  
  
"Be nice to your Uncle Eric," he commanded gently, picking his daughter up and taking her to the sink. Balancing her on his knee, he squirted soap onto his hands and scrubbed them against her good one, carefully using a sponge on her other hand so as not to get her cast wet.  
  
"But, Daddy…" she protested as he put her down.  
  
"He did the best he could, sweetie," he continued, returning to the stove and flipping one of the sandwiches. "I think he was a little stressed out with all you kids there. And not all boys are bad cooks."  
  
"Mommy cooks better than you most of the times," Hailey pointed out, pushing a chair over to the counter so she could help him.  
  
He helped her up and let her hold the spatula, putting his hand over her own to guide her as they flipped the second sandwich together. "Well, who grills the best hamburgers this side of…"  
  
"I don't like hamburgers," Hailey interrupted, without a thought to her father's feelings.  
  
"Hotdogs?" he asked, trying again. The grill was his area of expertise. Sydney knew how to work it as well as he did, but was not let anywhere near it. He had never flat out told her that she wasn't allowed to grill anything, but she had sensed it from the beginning, and was willing to boost his manly pride by calling him at work and telling him to hurry home because she needed him to grill the steak for dinner.  
  
But Hailey shook her head at the thought of hotdogs, too, crinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue. And he suddenly remembered how picky an eater his little girl was. She would eat only a hotdog roll for dinner at a barbeque if there was nothing else that she liked, so they had finally taken to just bringing peanut butter sandwiches for her. Sydney had said that she would grow out of it eventually, and Michael hoped she was right. As far as he was concerned, not liking hamburgers and hotdogs was just un-American.  
  
Well, since pretty much anything cooked on the grill was out, and he had never ventured much further beyond things that were boxed or canned… "Well, who orders the best pizza?"  
  
Hailey giggled. "You do, Daddy. You always get just cheese, and Mommy makes us eat it with veg… vegbet… vebegel… green things and mushrooms on it."  
  
Michael smiled. He had known he would win that one. Taking two plates out, he checked the sandwiches one last time before putting them onto their plates and turning off the stove. He stood surveying them for a moment and then looked at his daughter. "I think we did a pretty good job. What about you?"  
  
"_Pretty _good," Hailey agreed, tilting her head and holding a finger to her chin. "We have to cut off the crusts first." She went to get a knife out of the drawer, but Michael moved her hand out of the way.  
  
"_I'll _take care of that." He cut the crusts off one sandwich, and after a moment's hesitation, the other as well. Then he cut both into triangles.  
  
"You are _good_," Hailey nodded. "Just like Mommy's. I'll get the juice."  
  
He watched, munching on the sandwich crust, as Hailey got two cups and very slowly poured apple juice into them. She was being so careful not to spill that he had finished all the crust by the time she put the bottle of juice down on the counter.  
  
"Do you want some apple juice, Daddy?"  
  
"No, sweetie. I'm all set."  
  
At that moment, Sydney walked in the room. The sleeves of her sweater had been pushed up around her elbows, but she quickly pulled them down, keeping her hands bunched in the soft fabric. She didn't know that Michael saw her shiver.  
  
"The boys are in their room," she said quietly, and then turned her head and gestured toward her and Michael's bedroom. "I'm…"  
  
"… going to eat your dinner," Michael finished for her, pulling a chair out for her at the kitchen table. "Come on, gorgeous."  
  
Sydney looked hesitant. Michael knew that she still wasn't hungry. She hadn't been hungry for days. But she had to eat. He knew that she was going to tell them that she was tired, that she was going to go to bed. But…  
  
"Me and Daddy made girl cheese!" Hailey exclaimed proudly. "All by ourselves!"  
  
And there was no living, breathing, _feeling _creature on earth that could resist that smile, that would even consider spoiling the naïve happiness of such a sweet little girl. "I'm sure it's delicious," Sydney murmured.  
  
Michael held out his hand and she took it. He gave her a soft kiss on the temple, thought that he felt her lean into his touch, prayed that he hadn't been dreaming. She took the seat he offered her and began to nibble at her food.  
  
Michael joined his girls at the table, watching as they ate their grilled cheese and drank their juice. Hailey finished first, quickly gobbling up her sandwich and slurping her juice, not spilling more than a few drops. She brought her dishes to the sink, and at her father's bidding and a promise to play a game if she was quick like a bunny, skipped away to put her pajamas on.  
  
Neither husband nor wife said a word as he helped himself to a triangle of her sandwich, now moist and cold. But he swallowed it down; it made it look as if she had eaten more. Nearly half the sandwich was a start, though; a small one, but a start nonetheless.  
  
He stood up and took her plate. She wasn't going to eat anymore, and he wasn't going to make her.  
  
"I…" Sydney began, but found she had nothing to say.  
  
"I know," he murmured, offering her a small smile. The hunger, like complete happiness, would return with time. He put her dishes in the sink and helped her up from the table. "You're exhausted, baby. Go to sleep."  
  
She gazed at him for a moment, moving slowly toward him. Her lips came closer to his, and he thought that if it happened, if she kissed him, all the bad things would melt away. And it almost did. Almost bubbled over and dripped over the edge, spilling to where it didn't matter, where it could easily be cleaned up and thrown away. It almost happened. But…  
  
"Daddy! I'm all dressed!"  
  
Sydney jumped back, as if shot, and Michael put a hand on her to steady her, to keep her from running completely away. He didn't know what sort of absurd timing mechanism had been planted in his daughter, and if he had been over-paranoid, he would have been certain that someone had been plotting against him. But she was just a little girl after all.  
  
Hailey appeared in the doorway, pajamas on and a brightly colored box in her arms. "Let's play Candy Land!" she shouted happily, not noticing the moment she had unintentionally broken between her parents, would have certainly quieted and walked away if she had. But it wouldn't have mattered.  
  
"Candy! Candy!" came Jonny's voice from the hallway, and Michael could hear the gate rattle as his son yanked on it, trying to escape.  
  
"I telled the twins all about it, and they want to play, too. I'll set it all up," Hailey exclaimed quickly and brightly, and hurried from the room. "I'm lellow!"  
  
Michael looked to his wife; with the sudden interruption and Jonny's shouts still echoing down the hallway, he knew that whatever had been about to happen was no more. He brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her once again. This time, he knew that she lingered against his lips, and decided to rejoice at that and not dwell on what hadn't happened.   
  
"Goodnight, Syd."  
  
He led her from the room, stopping at the twins' door to open the gate. She continued down the hall, stopping in their darkened doorway and watching him like a shadow. He hadn't known she was still there, but heard her soft voice follow him down the hallway. "Goodnight, Michael."  
  
Hailey had Candy Land all set to go by the time he and the twins arrived in the living room. She told everybody exactly where they had to sit, handed out the gingerbread men, and declared that she was to go first.  
  
It took longer than he had anticipated; Hailey got stuck in the Molasses Swamp for eight consecutive turns, and when Michael's little red man had been two spaces away from the Candy Castle, he was sent back to the Peppermint Stick Forest. And everything went downhill from there.  
  
William actually won, allowing his blue game piece to be paraded around the board by his older sister and even picking up cards when prodded. Jonny's green gingerbread man touched the board only once, landing there after being catapulted across the room  
  
But finally, the game was over, the cards were collected from various hiding spots Jonny had found for them around the room, and the children were kissed and tucked into bed.  
  
As it was still relatively early, Michael spent a few minutes cleaning the dishes in the kitchen and took Donovan for a quick walk. He returned and flipped through the channels on the TV before deciding that he might as well go to bed. He knew sleep wouldn't find him for quite awhile, but he couldn't concentrate on anything but Sydney and how much he wanted to be by her side.  
  
Opening the door to his bedroom, he stepped inside and softly shut the door, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Sydney was still in her clothes, curled up under the covers, as far from his side of the bed as she could get and facing the window, a sight he had grown accustomed to seeing these past weeks. Sighing, realizing that he had been wishing that tonight would be different, that he would have found her asleep more on his pillow than her own, he quickly changed out of his clothes and lay down in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.  
  
  
Awhile later, he was still far from sleep, which was lucky, otherwise he wouldn't have heard it. It was barely a whisper, one he wouldn't even have noticed had he been anywhere near dreamland.  
  
"Michael?"  
  
He turned to face her, finding her back still toward him, her position unchanged. It occurred to him that she hadn't been asleep when he walked in the room, had seen him watching her, heard his sad sigh. Something had kept her awake, kept the exhaustion from taking over her, from bringing her to the sleep she so desperately needed.  
  
"Syd, baby, what's wrong?"  
  
Her brief pause told her that she probably hadn't expected him to be awake, her sigh of relief that she was glad he was. Sydney turned to face him, bringing her body close to his, so close that they were not even a whisper apart.  
  
She didn't say another word, and Michael knew she was searching for comfort, knew that he needed it too. But wasn't sure whether she needed a kind word, a gentle caress, a tender kiss… What _would _it take to make everything better?  
  
So he reached out a hand, running it lightly across her cheek. "Baby, it's okay. It's gonna be okay."  
  
"Vaughn…"  
  
"Michael," he interrupted, his command gentle. He needed to hear his first name from her tonight.  
  
"Michael," she repeated obediently, like an innocent school child. "I can't sleep."_ I need you…_  
  
"I know." He couldn't remember the last time she actually had. He had always tried to stay awake as long as she did, but mostly failed. There were times when her eyes had closed and her breathing steadied, but her sleep had been fitful, not what could be considered anything close to rest.  
  
Sydney knew what she needed, what both of them did. She knew what she wanted to say, what she had wanted to say every night for two weeks but hadn't been able to. "Michael?" she asked again, knowing the right words this time, willing them to come to her.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She didn't answer for so long that he would have thought she had finally fallen asleep if he hadn't seen her dark eyes gazing into his own. When her voice did come, it was little more than a murmur, but it was all that was needed.  
  
"Make love to me."  
  
Her request took him by surprise. He had thought she would apologize again, that he would have to tell her once more that it was all right, even when he wanted more than anything to beg her not to be sorry, not to apologize.  
  
She didn't usually voice this request, instead overwhelming him with her actions and making the outcome inevitable, unavoidable, painful in its irresistible necessity and bliss. But she was asking now, her eyes begging. He never thought this would be something he would deny her, but…  
  
"Syd, it's…" _… too much. Too soon… I don't want to hurt you. I…_  
  
"Please, Michael," she interrupted softly. "I've been numb for so long. I… I need to feel again." Her voice dropped so low that it was almost nothing more than a gentle rumble. But he heard her words. "I need _you_."  
  
And he knew he couldn't deny her that. She needed him and he needed her; they both needed to feel again, needed to live. So he pulled her impossibly closer, kissing her languidly, the desire building so incredibly slowly that he didn't realize how strong his need for her had suddenly become until he pulled away, breathless, every inch of his skin tingling, every drop of his blood on fire.  
  
It had never been like this before, so slow and careful, not even the first time. The lust was there, raging within them both, but not expressed through words or actions. Only security and love. Only quiet whispers and gentle caresses. Only a soft breeze and the hushed chirping of crickets outside the window. Only him and her.  
  
She tried to speed up the pace, to make it what he was used to, to make it better for him. But he wouldn't let her. It seemed he was more afraid of breaking her than she was of being broken. This was for reassurance and love, nothing more.  
  
But nothing was broken that night, with the exception of the barrier that had wormed its way up between them, that had taken longer to fall than anything had before. Nothing would ever find its way between them again, not like that. They wouldn't let it.  
  
Sydney was calm now, relaxed nearly to the point of sleep and still in his arms. Michael didn't want to move, but knew from experience and Jack's lecture that clothes were a good thing, so despite her silent protests, slid out of bed and found his shirt and boxers.  
  
He rummaged through drawers until he found one of her tank tops and a pair of his boxers, her usual nighttime apparel. He helped her out of bed and she slipped into the clothing without argument, tired beyond words.  
  
Together, they found their way back to bed and fell under the covers. Sydney didn't move from his side of the bed, resting her head completely on his pillow. She clutched him tightly, even after she began to drop off, her head resting on his shoulder, their legs hopelessly intertwined.  
  
He didn't know how either of them had fallen asleep like that. She had, he knew, because he felt her soft breathing and steady heartbeat, heard her sighs of contentment. And he must have as well, because the next thing he knew, a gentle tapping on his arm drew him out of his dreams.  
  
For a moment, he thought that Sydney had awakened and moved out of bed. But she was still asleep beside him, and he was beginning to notice that although the little face was his wife's, the eyes staring into his were his own.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"'smatter?" he slurred, voice still thick with sleep. Normally, he would have sat up or taken the little girl into his arms, but he was caught in Sydney's embrace, unwilling to break away.  
  
"I had a bad dream," she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears out of her voice.  
  
"What happened?" he asked quietly, beginning to wake up completely.   
  
This was their ritual whenever his daughter woke him up. He made her recount her nightmares, and maybe that was the reason she usually went to her mother first, wanting just to crawl into bed with her parents and be held. But these past two weeks, he hadn't once awakened and found the little girl in her mother's arms. She had come to him every time.  
  
Hailey took a deep breath and sighed; she had known that this would be coming. "I was in the woods and all the teddy bears from the movie were there. And then the bad mans comed and maked them all eat Uncle Eric's macaroni and cheese, and all the teddybears falled over and stopped moving. Even the little baby one and he was so cute," she added tearfully, pausing before going on. "Then Mommy was there and she was the princess that didn't have a crown or pretty dress, and the baddest bad man of all made her eat it too… And she falled over, but I don't know if she wasn't moving 'cause I waked up."  
  
"It's okay, sweetie," Michael murmured, freeing one of his hands to reach up and brush back her hair. "It was just a dream."  
  
"Where's Mommy?" Hailey asked in a tiny voice. She wouldn't be satisfied until she was sure her mother was safe, and hadn't seen her familiar outline under the covers when she had tiptoed into the room.  
  
"Right here," Michael assured her, nodding toward Sydney.  
  
Hailey leaned closer, squinting for a moment, but her features suddenly relaxing when she realized that her mother was not just by her father's side, she was in his arms. There wasn't a safer place the little girl could think of, her mommy would be all right there.  
  
"Last time I comed in here, she was all the way over there," Hailey whispered, pointing to the far side of the bed. "Can I sleep in your bed, please, Daddy?"  
  
"Your Mommy's tired and you have to be careful not to wake her up, but you can stay until you fall asleep," Michael told her, knowing that she would fight sleep as long as she could in order to have a few more minutes safe in her parents' arms. But it was nearly impossible for Sydney and Michael to sleep once the little girl was in their bed. As rambunctious as Hailey might be during the day, she somehow found it in her to move even more at night.  
  
Hailey frowned at this, but realizing that the deal was not going to be made any sweeter, reluctantly agreed. There was a little space between her father and the side of the bed, and she tried to climb in, catching her foot on one of the blankets and tumbling backwards out of the bed.  
  
Michael's quick reflexes caught her, his hand grasping her own and steadying her so that nothing besides her feet hit the floor. "Are you okay?" He asked, forgetting to whisper.  
  
But Hailey didn't answer, her eyes growing wide as Sydney stirred.  
  
"M-Michael," Sydney mumbled. She woke when she no longer felt him against her, though not because of his jerky movement. Simply because there was a sudden void, he wasn't there.  
  
"Go back to sleep, baby," he whispered gently, giving her a quick kiss. But she was awake and had spotted the little girl at their bedside.  
  
"Hey, sweetie," Syd murmured, her soft sweet voice not one their daughter had heard for awhile. "Did you have a bad dream?"  
  
Hailey could only nod, wordlessly holding out her arms to her mother like she used to when she was a baby. Sydney reached over, and Michael helped her lift the little girl onto the bed.  
  
"I'm sorry I waked you up," Hailey whispered, settling between her parents. "Daddy said you're tired." She looked confused, scared, almost; unaware that everything was now okay, that the slightest of movements wouldn't set her mother off.  
  
"Oh, sweetie," Sydney mumbled, gathering the little girl into her arms. "You don't have to be sorry for something silly like that."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really." Sydney was beginning to understand now. There were some things that didn't need apologizing, but for others, there weren't enough ways to show your guilt and sorrow.  
  
"You're not mad?" Hailey asked, leaning back and looking into her mother's eyes, knowing she'd find the truth there.  
  
"No, Hailey." She had never been man, really. But it was difficult to explain the intricacies of pain and emotion to a little girl, nearly impossible for grown men and women to muddle their way through them as it was. "But I _am _sorry. I love you, and your brothers, and your daddy very, very much, and I've been doing a bad job of showing that."  
  
"It's okay, Mommy. You were sad."  
  
Her Daddy had explained it to her before, and little Hailey had it all figured out. She remembered how sad she had been when she had lost her favorite bracelet at the playground, and how she had hit Jonny afterwards, even though he had done nothing wrong. As far as she was concerned, sadness was the only explanation that was needed.  
  
"Yeah, I was. But that doesn't make it okay. I'm going to try to be better from now on."  
  
Sydney wished she could promise that she would, knew she would do anything in her power to be. But she knew that all she or anyone else could ever do was try. And if really did try her best, it wouldn't matter that she hadn't outright promised that she would be better, she would be, just by trying.  
  
"You can't," Hailey stated, shaking her head. Sydney's face fell for only a moment before her daughter continued. "You already are the best. And Daddy, too."  
  
In Sydney and Michael's eyes, their little girl couldn't have been more perfect. She knew just what to do and say. In any other child, it might have been brownnosing or a convenient lie. But they knew she meant every word she said.  
  
Sydney hugged her daughter tightly while Michael brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her little cheek. When he pulled back, he saw Hailey yawn sleepily. "I think it's time to go to sleep."  
  
"Can I still sleep here for a little bit?" Hailey asked, glancing from her father to her mother.  
  
"Of course," Michael answered, and Sydney nodded in agreement.  
  
He kissed his daughter once more and leaned over to his wife, intent on giving her a quick peck goodnight. But his lips lingered on hers, remembering and loving the feel of the smooth skin against his own.  
  
Hailey's head bolted off her mother's shoulder, her sleepiness forgotten. "You kissed!" she exclaimed. "Do it again!"  
  
Michael laughed softly, and Sydney's lips curved upwards in the beginnings of a smile, her first genuine one in ages. But both adults were more than willing to follow their daughter's demand and remove that smile from Sydney's lips. The second kiss was just as sweet and quick as the first one; their daughter was watching, after all.  
  
"And _now _it's time to go to sleep," Michael stated when they pulled apart.  
  
Hailey nodded. "Before you two start getting it on."  
  
"Hailey! Where did you…?!" Sydney began.  
  
"I can't!" the little girl cried, leaning back and shaking her head vigorously. "Uncle Eric made me promise not to tell…"  
  
"I'm gonna kill him…" Michael mused, stewing. And if the clock by his bed hadn't read 2:47, he would have picked up the phone right then and there and given his friend a piece of his mind.  
  
"He said it by mistake," Hailey added, trying to smooth things over. "And wouldn't tell me what it meaned. What…?"  
  
"It means kissing a lot," Sydney explained hastily. "But don't say it again."  
  
"Is it bad? Like shi…"  
  
"No," Sydney cut in quickly.  
  
"It's just not something you should say," Michael tried to help her explain.  
  
"Oh…" Hailey yawned again, "…kay."  
  
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Michael murmured, and Sydney kissed the little girl as they all lay back.  
  
"Night…" Hailey mumbled before closing her eyes, the scariness of her dream completely forgotten now that she was safe in her mother and father's arms.  
  
Silence ticked throughout the room, the minutes passing steadily, but seeming not to at all. The little girl quickly dropped off, sighing and already beginning to move in her sleep. Michael didn't move an inch, afraid to blink or even breathe. He knew what it felt like to have his life shattered, to have the bottom dropped out from beneath him, and didn't want to risk losing this moment, thought that if he so much as moved, it would tumble out from under him.  
  
Sydney was so quiet and still that Michael was sure she must be sleeping, and finally willed himself to move, sitting up carefully and trying to disentangle his daughter from her mother's arms.  
  
"Do you have to bring her back?" he heard Sydney whisper. Her voice startled him for a moment, flowing smoothly and perfectly instead of shrouded with sleep. She had still been awake after all, quietly sharing the moment with him.  
  
"Neither of us will get any sleep the way she moves around," he whispered gently back to her. "And, baby, you're still exhausted." Michael tried to pick up the little girl once again, but Sydney still had her arms around her.  
  
"I just want to hold her…" she murmured, and Michael saw the fear moving back into her eyes, the fear that she had pushed away while their little girl was awake. "…while I still can."  
  
"Syd, you'll have her to hold tomorrow, and all the days after that." He understood her fear. It was the same fear he lived with, the same one had to block out everyday in order to live. "She's not going anywhere, and neither are you."  
  
"You don't know that, Michael."  
  
It wasn't something he could promise or guarantee. There wasn't any contract he could sign his name to that would will it to be so. But that was life, both good and the bad. Most of the time, there would be no one to blame, no one to thank, no one to apologize to or go after...   
  
"Neither of us do. But I can't live my whole life worrying about things that could or might happen, wondering about tomorrow. That's no way for anybody to live, Syd."  
  
…But there would always be someone to love, to hold, to celebrate or cry with. That, too, was part of the life everyone lives, the part that gets most people up in the morning and lets them sleep at night…  
  
"I… I know." And she let go, giving the little girl over to her father's waiting arms.  
  
…Because no matter what happened, who was there to help or to hurt, it was all life, jumbled up in a not-so-tidy package; sometimes tied with a satiny ribbon, sometimes hastily wrapped with duct tape and the front page of the newspaper. But he unwrapped it anyway, and so did she. And more times than not, neither of them would want to return that package for anything in the world.  
  
"I'll be right back," Michael promised, a promise he could keep, tiptoeing with his daughter from the room. As much as he loved Hailey, he wasn't going to let anything come between him and Sydney that night. The little girl's monsters had been easily vanquished; she was sleeping peacefully and would continue to until morning.  
  
But there were still a few monsters lurking in the corners of Sydney's dreams. And those were a little trickier than the bad men of a four-year-old's nightmares. They would be harder to find and draw out, harder to beat from her completely. But he could try. He could still hold her in his arms.  
  
He gently tucked Hailey back into bed. She mumbled something unintelligible as she grabbed her teddy bear and curled back into a deep sleep. Before returning to his room, Michael stopped at the twins', lingering there a few moments and watching his boys sleep.  
  
When he finally turned to go back to his own room, he found himself face to face with Sydney, her sudden appearance frightening him. But she quickly brought up a hand to smother his startled yelp, some habits too ingrained to be lost.  
  
He kissed her palm, not bothering to ask her why she hadn't stayed in bed. He knew what her answer would have been and didn't want to see her flush with the embarrassment of having to admit her fears and insecurities.  
  
Without a word, he took her hand and led her back to bed, his side of the bed. Without a word, she got in, snuggling against him as he joined her under the covers. Without a word, fingers, arms, and legs entwined as both drifted off to sleep.  
  
Because any words they could have uttered wouldn't have been exactly right, wouldn't have been able to show what emotion and action could. Not a word was needed to know that everything was now going to be all right.  
  
  
The End


End file.
